| sleeze barometer |
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| 01:24pm 12/05/2008 |
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my ex girlfreind of two weeks calls me saturday morning
we chat
i tell her i went to a party
she asks if i hooked up with anyone
i say yes, which is the truth
she asks if we had sex, i say no, which is the truth
she asks if we made out, i say yes
she flips the fuck out, says we can't be freinds anymore
i got drunk and made out with someone, and im single now. . . hell i dont get it
please gimme a little perspective here, i honestly think i didnt do anything wrong |
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| rant |
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| 02:12pm 26/12/2007 |
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ok i haven't posted a blog in a while
about two years
here goes
ok so basically we live in a country where "preserving freedom" involves occupation
where people want a right to life despite the fact that if someone isnt in the mindset or position to have a child neither them or the child will have much of a life
we live in a country where thinking that its right for cops to be prosecuted when they gun down a man in the street for no reason is "soft on crime"
where you can get wire tapped illegally and its written off again as "preserving freedom"
where people actually have said "only land owners should be allowed to vote on taxes"
where the people in power are RICH and born into power
where race still causes violence
where you are a second class citizen for having a different sexual preference (what next, will i be a second class citizen for prefering brunettes to blonds?)
where the only option for poor kids to have a future is to fight for a country that stabs them in the back
i smell fascism
i smelt it the first time i heard the phrase "freedom isn't free" |
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| 10:31am 24/01/2006 |
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Richard C. Dickie Dow 30 —
October 20, 1998. Portland:
Mr. Dow was beaten and restrained by Portland police. A coroner's report said that he died from “positional asphyxia.” Police officers attempted to detain Mr. Dow, a paranoid schizophrenic. He became distraught, and started struggling and yelling to his mother for help. His mother, who witnessed the incident, described what happened: “I said, ‘Just don't hurt him, he has a mental problem, let me calm him down.’ And suddenly, the street was full of policemen and they came out of their cars swinging billy clubs and kept swinging and swinging.” Up to eight police officers participated in beating and subduing Mr. Dow with batons and pepper-spray. The autopsy found that he had numerous abrasions and two broken ribs. Mr. Dow collapsed and stopped breathing. Police did not administer first aid and refused to allow Deborah Howes, a neighbor, to give CPR. Richard Dow’s mother and stepfather were arrested and detained for five hours. They were released at 3:30 a.m. and told only that their son was in intensive care. When they arrived at the hospital, he was dead. Neighbors were disturbed about the way police handled the situation. One said, “His parents could have definitely defused the situation if they were allowed to.” Another said, “You want to know why that man died? They choked him to death. That’s beyond excessive force. It's straight murder. If it'd been one of us, we'd be in jail.” The victim’s mother said, “I'm not a doctor, but my son had no marks on him when the police first had hold of him, and when I saw him seven hours later, I could not recognize him as my own son. The only conclusion I can draw is that they literally beat him to death.” In contrast, the coroner concluded that he had simply suffered from “sudden death syndrome.” On Nov. 13, 1998, a grand jury ruled that the killing was justified. Mr. Dow is survived by his mother and stepfather, Barbara and Ted Vickers. |
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| from jordan |
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| 03:44pm 18/01/2006 |
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music: deadline- last night/ hudson falcons-scab
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1. Who are you?
2. Are we friends?
3. When and how did we meet?
4. How have I affected you?
5. What do you think of me?
6. What's the fondest memory you have of me?
7. How long do you think we will be friends?
8. Do you love me?
9. Do you have a crush on me?
10. Would you kiss me?
11. Would you hug me?
12. Physically, what stands out?
13. Emotionally, what stands out?
14. Do you wish I was cooler?
15. On a scale of 1-10, how hot am I?
16. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it.
17. Am I loveable?
18. How long have you known me?
19. Describe me in one word.
20. What was your first impression?
21. Do you still think that way about me now?
22. What do you think my weakness is?
23. Do you think I'll get married?
24. What makes me happy?
25. What makes me sad?
26. What reminds you of me?
27. If you could give me anything what would it be?
28. How well do you know me?
29. When's the last time you saw me?
30. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't?
31. Do you think I could kill someone?
32. Are you going to put this on your LiveJournal and see what I say about you? |
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| 01:06pm 10/01/2006 |
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Alcohol by Gang Green
We're gonna die when the sun comes up
We'll drink until we drop
My blood's one hundred proof
We're gonna stumble twist and crawl
Got 99 bottles of beer on the wall
I'd rather drink than fuck
No doubt about it
Can't live without it
No doubt about it
I can't live without it, alcohol
Alcohol
Why it's my destiny?
You get the beer
We get the time
You get the coke, gimme a line
No doubt about it
Can't live without it
No doubt about it
I can't live without it, alcohol
We're gonna die when the sun comes up
We'll drink until we drop
My blood's one hundred proof
We're gonna stumble twist and crawl
Got 99 bottles of beer on the wall
I'd rather drink than fuck
You get the beer
We get the time
You get the coke, gimme a line
No doubt about it
Can't live without it
No doubt about it
I can't live without it
Alcohol |
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| 12:25pm 10/01/2006 |
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music: mark lind-better days
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so me and sommer are currently official in limbo. . .we dont know what we are. listening to mark lind from the ducky boys solo shit. . .its good.
so take heed: i discovered this show and movie, firefly (the movies serenity) its amazing, its quintisential heinleinesque sci fi and the main character might as well be lazerus long. its really fucking awesome, great writing, great special effects. its renewed my faith in sci fi. |
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| Jimmy died from way too much too soon |
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| 10:06am 09/01/2006 |
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mood:  blank music: Amphetamine-RFTT
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we broke up last night.
we broke up last night.
The armpits of the bridges keep the poverty asleep
As the mountains puke the day into the sky
The sun and river creep, both rejected, toward the sea
And the sullen clouds between begin to cry
Another night of drowning in the gutters in this town
Another morning finds me down the hill
I spend every wasted day drinking last night from my slate
And every night I spend my last five-dollar bill
The stench of all that isn't me engulfs me as I swim
Against the sea of those who distantly attain
While I, an island, wax ecstatic for the flower in the attic
That keeps my former self my memory's only stain
Another night of drowning in the gutters in this town
Another morning finds me down the hill
I spend every wasted day drinking last night from my slate
And every night I spend my last five-dollar bill
My city, she is silent, though the ghosts of day remain
And she shivers, raped and nauseous in the night
And the cobbies splayed between the tracks that glisten in the rain
Shed the fog that folds around the trolley lights
Another night of drowning in the gutters in this town
Another morning finds me down the hill
I spend every wasted day drinking last night from my slate
And every night I spend my last five-dollar bill
My city, she is silent, though the ghosts of day remain
And she shivers, raped and nauseous in the night
And the cobbies splayed between the tracks that glisten in the rain
Shed the fog that folds around the trolley lights
Another night of drowning in the gutters in this town
Another morning finds me down the hill
I spend every wasted day drinking last night from my slate
And every night I spend my last five-dollar bill
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| let me go down in the mud when the rivers all run dry |
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| 03:16pm 04/01/2006 |
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"Póg ma thoin!"
just a little shane for ya all. i think i want a billy bragg tatto i found an awesome picture of him in a red star.
back in the county hell
Well oh well I'm back in the County Hell
I just flew in and my arms they feel like hell
I'm so glad to be back in the County Hell
I missed the smack, I missed the crack,
I missed the killings too
I missed the London Irish girls
but especially missed you
The USA never fails to make me blue
Put me in charge I'd execute the Artistic Queers
And all the fuckin' bastards that drink trendy Irish beers
My death squads would be kids from flats
All high from sniffing glue
I'd use them to kill rich Brits
and the journalistic whores
The park bench Aristocrats
are drinking in the park
And the junkies are still sneaking
in for fix up after dark
And Jock laid out on his park bench
like it was his home settee
Singin' like a fallen angel Me and Bobby McGee
When I've done my patriotic chore
And burnt London to the ground
I'll go back home to Nenagh
and get pissed every night in town
Like the ol' folks say,
you can't keep a good man down
And the park bench Aristocrats
still drinking in the park
The junkies are still sneaking in
for fix up after dark
Jock's still layed out on his park bench
like it was his own settee
Singing like a fallen angel
Me and Bobby McGee
Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose
Nothin ain't worth nothin if ain't free
Feelin good was easy Lord when Bobby sang the blues
Feelin good was good enough for me
Good enough for me and Bobby McGee |
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| Tracks on the mirror, tracks on her face, tracks on her arms all over the place. . . |
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| 05:42pm 30/11/2005 |
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music: johnny t.- one track mind
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this is so i can work on this story between home and other places without needing to bring anything but if you wanna read and comment you can. if anyone actually is interested ill post when i do something big. k. ttyl
Jim leaned over the corpse and looked into the empty sockets where its eyes, and the Video Chip, should have been. The gaping empty sockets stared back, he saw his own reflection in the pooled blood.
It was odd, he’d never had to do this before. Go to the crime scene, collect evidence. That was a job for techs. They analyzed it so they could absolutely and completely nail the fucker who did it. A detective at a crime scene? It was unheard of.
He could feel the warm wetness of the blood through his glove. He continued to stare into the corpses eyes, trying to feel, understand, interpret.
There was nothing fucking here. No fucking evidence. No fucking hope of nailing this bastard. He was like a rat, he just slithered in, struck, and left people dead, with no story to tell.
Any other murder was a simple thing, collect data from the Video Capture units behind the victims eyes, cross reference it with the locations transponder records from the VC chips.
This bastard, had no electronic signature, he left no evidence, he didn’t even leave a record of his face.
Jim looked over at the pile of what looked like bloody jelly. The crushed eyes of the victim, the chip inside was shattered. Jims own capture unit sent the signal to the augment chip in his skull. He saw everything’s exact measurements.
No usable Data. Flashed across his vision.
“Fuck!” he stood up and slammed his fist into the concrete retaining wall. His anger overwhelmed the pain.
The girl couldn’t have been more then 16. She only had the most basic compulsory augments. The kind the Department of Public Safety paid for. Poor girl, never had a chance.
She’d been hooking, this sick fuck picked her up, then sliced and diced her. The bastard hadn’t even screwed her. There was nothing usable here, just more dead ends.
He looked around at the faces of the Tech’s.
Discomfort/Agitation. Flashed next to the lead Techs head. He looked down and saw his hand, blood was dripping from his knuckles.
“Pack up the meat, grab whatever you can. And don’t load up on useless shit. This bastard has three kills to his name and we got nothing. I want to catch him before he kills again.” Jim threw his hands into the pockets of his jacket and climbed up the muddy embankment.
He reached the road and walked up and down it for a while, then he climbed into his squad car. |
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| oh how i have missed thee. . . |
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| 07:59pm 28/11/2005 |
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I AIN'T LIKE YOU!
And I don't want your love.
And I don't need your respect.
I just can't hate enough but I got no tears or regrets.
I ain't like you
I will never live like you and you will never walk the path I do.
I will never be like you and I'll never be a part of your society of lies and fools.
I will never live like you.
I will never walk the path you do.
I am your wasted youth so...
Fuck you and society too 'cause my kind just ain't like you.
Yeah, I'm a King of Nothing,
'cause nothing's what I am and nowhere is where I'll be.
But I'd rather be a king of nothing than a servant in a sick society
'cause pretty little children playing pretty little games in their pretty little worlds is all I've ever seen.
You've never felt my pain
And I just gotta say to your face I ain't like you.
I will never live like you
And you will never walk my path so...
Fuck you and your society too.
Once again I'm a King of Nothing,
'cause nothing's what I am and nowhere is where I'll be.
I'm a nowhere man from Nowhere, U.S.A.
It's a dead end street near you.
They broke my heart, they stole my soul and why?
I'll never know.
I'm exiled from all of you so...
Fuck you and the whole world too 'cause I will never live like you.
If you don't like it... you can suck my dick. |
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| the greatest song ever |
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| 03:29pm 10/11/2005 |
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i love the vibrators
Sittin' in the electric chair,
Soon I'll be gone,
Hey warden turn the juice on.
Been a bad man or so they say,
Me I blame it on my DNA.
Couldn't help goin' wrong.
Hey warden turn the juice on.
It was the start of the huntin' season,
Had a lil' accident with a machine gun.
Went an' sprayed my dad an' mom,
Hey warden turn the juice on.
Thought I had a license to kill,
I did it for the money an' I did it for the thrill.
Ski mask an' a shotgun,
Hey warden turn the juice on.
Breakin' into houses for a lil' killin' an' torture,
I admit it ain't doin' what I oughta.
A lil' rape a lil' homicide,
Always made me feel so good inside.
(Come on -)
I've been a lil' antisocial in my time,
But is choppin' up girls such a crime.
Don't care what they say when I'm gone,
Hey warden turn the juice on.
I've done a few things I can't tell you friend,
Society says I gotta make amends.
Eatin' people they say is wrong,
Hey warden turn the juice on.
Turn off your lights, your kettles an' TVs,
Warden needs all that juice for fryin' me.
Sittin' in the electric chair soon I'll be gone,
Hey warden turn the juice on. |
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| 04:38pm 07/11/2005 |
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for those of you this might mean anything to:
it looks like my sister is going to be here in a couple weeks. . .for good. i dunno how many of you know that this has been a p[roject of mine for a couple years, and of vital importance. my mother at least had sence enough to tell her to move not kick her out into the street like she did me so that makes me happy. i guess my sister hit my stepdad. .. which is yet another project/interest of mine.
well yeah there it is. Zoe coming home. . . |
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| 03:57pm 03/11/2005 |
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fates a real fucking bastard. . . |
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| a moment with uncle joe |
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| 05:21pm 02/11/2005 |
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"Death Or Glory"
Now every cheap hood strikes a bargain with the world,
Ends up making payments on a sofa or a girl.
Love 'n hate tattooed across the knuckles of his hands,
Hands that slap his kids around, 'cause they don't understand how,
Death or glory, becomes just another story.
Death or glory, becomes just another story.
'n every gimmick hungry yob digging gold from rock 'n roll,
Grabs the mike to tell us he'll die before he's sold,
But I believe in this and it's been tested by research,
He, who fucks nuns, will later join the church.
Death or glory, becomes just another story.
Death or glory, becomes just another story.
Fear in the gun-sights,
They say lie low,
You say ok,
Don't wanna play the show,
Now all you're thinking
"Was it death or glory now?"
Playing the blues of kings,
Sure looks better now.
Death or glory, just another story?
Death or glory, just another story?
From every dingy basement, on every dingy street,
Every dragging handclap over every dragging beat,
It's just the beat of time, the beat that must go on
If you've been trying for years, we 'ready heard your song
Death or glory, becomes just another story.
Death or glory, just another story?
We gonna march, a long way,
Fight, a long time,
We got to travel, over mountains,
Got to travel, over seas,
We gonna fight, your brother,
We gonna fight, 'til you loose,
We gonna raise, trouble,
We gonna raise, hell.
We gonna fight, your brother,
Raise, hell.
Death or glory, becomes just another story.
Death or glory, becomes just another story.
Death or glory, just another story?
Death or glory, becomes just another story.
thats it, death or glory. which also happen to be the onlly god damn things that matter in life even though their just another bullshit fucking story. |
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| 07:22pm 31/10/2005 |
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once again i assure you all im alive. back from mexico, actually have skin pigment, picked up a bottle of johnny walker black. might try to get on the stage hands union. miss some of you guys. . .honeslty dont have the slightest clue who some of you are. cheers to my aussi freind! |
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| 07:51pm 28/09/2005 |
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"The Hand We're Dealt"
Now we're growing up, my old friend
Never bothering to right our wrongs
All we've ever known was youth
Getting drunk and singing songs
[Chorus]
But I'm the only one to blame
All my friends changed but I stayed the same
The hand we're dealt is often hard
I got stuck with the joker card
Never trust anyone over 30
Now how can we trust ourselves
Should we trade it all it all for a suit
And put the rest of it on the shelf
[Chorus]
All the doors that were open to you
They all got shut in my face
When I go back and try the knob
They're all locked firmly in place
Now I work a dead end job
Hey little rich boy take a look at me
I know I'm not living in paradise
But there's no place that I'd rather be |
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| 01:05am 21/08/2005 |
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i guess im alive. phones rehooked up, got apartment, living with sommer pretty much, yeah thats aboyut it |
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bloodyupstart's journal