mental vomit

I do keep journal entries here. They're in an invisible section though. Not that I write much, but I go in there to bitch and whine and moan about the state of my life every so often.

I've been sitting at a sort of crossroads in life for a few years now. It feels that way to me, anyway.

There's no better way to be anti-societal than to take yourself out of society. I did that, sort of. I've become more of a boil on its ass though. Even a boil on the ass is a part of the body though, so, in that, I'm still part of that which I despise.

I don't want to say that I took a wrong turn somewhere. I know that I'm where I'm at for a reason, and I have learned quite a bit from the path, but overall... I don't like where I'm at.

Once, I survived on nothing. Now, I'm having trouble surviving on a nice sized disability check. What the fuck is that all about? It makes me think of the whole bible thing... the "lead me not into temptation" stuff. That's what all of it is... all the stuff, and the bigger place to put the stuff.... the more you have, the more you want... the more you "need".

I keep trying to figure out where I took the wrong turn... keep thinking that if I could just get back there, I'd be fine. That train of thought usually leads to being suicidal though, because, in truth, things are all connected and from birth is where I have to start.

I have this board, which has basically turned into a sort of interactive "blog" for me. It's my journal, only people actually react to what I write. Nifty, but thinking of it as any sort of "community" is just completely stupid.


I'd like to have a life where I wake up and am able to ask myself "What do you want to do today?" as opposed to "How are we going to kill another 24 hours?". My life is basically about waiting to die, and that's just not too much fun.


When I grow up, I want to be...

I guess that all I wanted to be was "happy", but aside from a few moments, I haven't really attained that.

I don't know where I'm going with all of this. I was thinking about being young and going to shows... creating "hardcore" just by existing...

It ended for me, when? Maybe when I got locked up... maybe when I fell in love... maybe when I turned 18 and became afraid of jail.

What was it that ended? "Freedom" perhaps.

What happens to old punks?

You're lookin' at it.

Things used to mean something. Even what you did or didn't wear made a statement. The world... life was intense. They have pills for that now... and institutions.

You're not so much of a threat when you're a "minor".