February 2012
29 posts
I’ve become aware in the last month or so that when I wake up late and don’t take my pills in the morning like I’m supposed to, I get the shakes like I’m tweaking and they won’t go away until I pop a few Xanax. I feel like a bundle of nerves that are constantly being sent signals that tell me, “This is how it feels to be palsied. How do you like it?”
...
How awesome would it be if I could get prescribed an eight ball of cocaine once a week? I could be fine with that. It’s not like I’m a junkie or something.
My brain is definitely dying. Slowly, but by no means painfully.
Alas, I fear I’ve fallen in love with the feeling of when your motor skills become impaired and it takes you longer than normal to connect the dots in your mind.
It’s a bitch when I have to retrace my steps, though.
It’s like trying to revisit that time I was raped when I was six.
After Insane Clown Posse came out as Christians I lost the non-existant respect I had for them. I hate when I think about how easily “Tilt-A-Whirl” could be interpreted as a song about what happens to sinners… and it’s also not such a bad song.
Fuck.
PS: “Everyone knows the best bands are affiliated with Satan.”
Why the fuck do these aviator Ray-Bans always end up hurting the back of my ears after a few hours of wearing ‘em? How am I suppose to know what sunglasses are the ideal sunglasses to be worn 24-hrs a day?
Oh, I told you guys that I’ve been channeling and tweaking around with Al Jorgensen and Chris Connelly’s image in the late 80s for the last few weeks, right?
I’m gonna...
I’m currently listening (and singing along) to a 12” mix of “Little Lies” as I watch The Human Centipede 2 on mute, this is the kinda person I am.
Up next in the mix of most-played tracks is “Liquid Swords”.
Remember when Clay Aiken kept saying he was straight and it was his Southern accent and affectations that people may have been misconstruing as “gay”? Then Jabba the Rosie inadvertently outed him on The View when she said Kelly Rippa was a hateful homophobic monster when during a Regis and Kelly taping Aiken cupped Rippa’s mouth in order to jokingly shut her up, to which Rippa...
Wait a minute, you’re telling me the combination of Xanax, red wine and a bathtub has the potential to be lethal?! It’s a good thing I don’t eat Valium.
Come to think of it, I can’t say I ever have.
Now to create a cocktail called The Whitney. I think it will quickly catch on.
It’s so freaking awesome when people who owe you a large sum of money suddenly are too busy to answer your phone calls.
Never trust a big butt and a smile.
Just because I know you in person—whether it be through a friend-of-a-friend, your dating one of my friends or maybe you and I even fucked a few times—that doesn’t necessarily mean I wanna be your “friend” on Facebook.
No, I don’t think I’m being a prick by saying that. Truth is, not many people like what I have to say and that’s understandable. Brilliant and...
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!! I’M ABOUT TO GO GET HUMAN CENTIPEDE 2 ON BLU-RAY!! I don’t own the first one—or ever intend to, because it actually did suck—but the second one is brilliant. Ever single frame is a piece of art and should be respected as such. People who didn’t like it are fucking stupid. You can’t compare a movie like The Human Centipede to a movie like Halloween....
Just because I’m stoned several hours every day doesn’t necessarily mean I’m a “pothead”.
Those who say they are, rarely are.
There’s this big fat lesbian I know from back when I was trying to be a club kid [over half a decade ago] that I know for a fact hates me because many gays have confirmed that she is fully aware of my disdain for big fat lesbians.
It’s funny that she’s so fucking fake and phony ‘cause whenever I run into her I make idle chit-chat, knowing my very presence annoys her....
Tom Hardy’s pussylips FTW.
I could really use a bottle of red wine and a warm bubble bath right now. Oh, and I wanna gobble up a bunch of Xanax before that.
I love that my dealer has three fucking cellphones with three different numbers and still can’t manage to make it anywhere on time.
I’m never gonna grow up. Never.
I’m about to fucking KILL MYSELF because I decided it wouldn’t be so bad to cover a friend’s pizzeria shift from five to 11.
Is this what it’s like to “earn a living”? Having to deal with fat-fuck peons and feeble-minded delivery drivers?
FUCK THAT SHIT.
I’m a liar. I’m a thief. I’m a con artist. I’m above all of you.
I get what I...
I don’t wanna die tonight, but paradoxically, I can’t live without you.
I wouldn’t ever let my daughter date a black guy. I’m serious, even if he were light-skinned.
Bill tells me I’m never gonna die of an overdose. I wonder what role he will play in my life.
I love doing coke ‘til I can’t do it anymore. I mean, to the point where I have to puke up the booze and coke lest I die.
I truly enjoy tempting fate.
I like having trouble breathing.
I like the sweating.
I love the confidence.
I love being reminded that I’m alive.
I don’t even mind a headache if there’s good music playing in the background.
Or if I have...
I may be good in small doses, but I’d rather flood your world.
January 2012
33 posts
“I don’t care how much fucking talent that you have. You can learn how to...”
– Carmen Carrera
Amsterdam or bust.
“T for Terminator, U for Undertaker, N—an annihilator, E for Educator, S for...”
– MC Tunes
I wanna start drinking red wine with my pills in the morning before school. I wanna put whiskey in my coffee and drink it during class from a discreet thermos. I wanna be the alcoholic pill-popping student/writer. That sounds like a cool gimmick. I was thinking of taking up smoking, too, but it seems like such a pain in the ass.
How long ‘til I become a heroin addict already?
I’m in my “cultural, race and media” class. Evidently, it’s a required class or some shit in which we discuss how stereotypes and something do blah, blah, blah.
I think my professor is drunk.
And once again, much like chemistry the other day, not a looker in the bunch.
Perhaps I’m invincible because I’ll never find a love that can be reciprocated. I’m doomed to live forever.
You wanna know why I didn’t die last night? Because I haven’t fallen in love yet. God won’t let me die until I find someone precious to me and takes him away. My life is a joke and my death will be the punch line.
To say I’ve lost my mind would postulate I had one to lose.
WatchThis is me calling back that guy or girl who sent me that bizarre text message the other day. I have no idea what kinda tomfoolery is goin’ on here.
I’m trying to find a fucking mailbox downtown and all I can find are those solar-powered trash compactors. At the corner of Van Buren and Wabash there’s literally one on each corner. I know I’ve seen ‘em in Lakeview, too.
It’s like a Twilight Zone episode waiting to happen.
Do you remember phone booths? I do.
I’m sure none of my classmates born in the 90s...
Had a weird encounter with Bryan just now. We hardly talk anymore since he’s probably the most absent-minded and unreliable dealer/friend I have.
He wanted ten 30mg Adderalls and I told him I sell ‘em for 10 bucks each. “Do you have the money?” I asked when he arrived at my place an hour late. “No, but I was wondering if you’d maybe wanna trade…”
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