Let me tell you, when I started this blog; I meant the name and the attitude to be sort of ironic. When I started, I was only mildly cynical and for the most part wanted to make fun of people who get upset and get cynical about things. However, in recent times I've realised that it's no longer an ironic joke; I really am a cynical asshole.
I hadn't thought much about it before, but when I was on my Facebook today; I was scrolling through the homepage and seeing all the new statuses and whatnot, when I realised that as I was seeing statuses and photos of people being happy and having fun; I was building in anger and being pissed.
It's weird, the people I was seeing were friends of mine, around my age and I've known them all my life. I like (most) of them. However, just seeing people having fun really pissed me off. It's odd, I began to realise that even in "fun" situations, I still cannot recall having any true fun.
Like when I was a kid, I was always in a pissy mood during trips, or anything of the sort. Fuck! That was when I was a child! I don't know why I am like this, but I'm actually kind of freaked out about how cynical I've become over my illustrious fifteen years on this planet.
Friday, June 28, 2013
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Tonight, I Play the Midnight Game
What's the Midnight Game, you ponder? Well, give me a fucking second and I'll elaborate:
The Midnight Game was originally conceived as punishment for those who doubted and questioned the Pagan religion. Me being a stout atheist, I might as well suffer it too, y'know?
The rules are simple(ish). First, you take a piece of blank paper and write your full name on it. (first, middle and last) Then, you poke your finger and get a drop of blood and smear it next to your name on the piece of paper.
Next, just before 12:00 AM, you place the paper down on the ground in front of your front door, light a candle and place it on top of the paper; knock 22 times on your front (wooden) door making the twenty-second knock exactly at 12.
Then, you open your front door, blow out your candle, and re-light it. You have just invited the midnight man into your home. Equipped with nothing more than your lit candle and a container of salt, you must now wonder around your house in complete darkness until 3:33 AM.
Signs you're close to the Midnight Man are as follows: a sudden change in temperature, or your candle going out mysteriously. If that happens, you must either re-light your candle within ten seconds or stop in place, create a circle of salt where you are, and stay there for the rest of the night.
At 3:33, if you followed the instructions well, will be free of the Midnight Man. But from now on, he will always be watching you.
The Midnight Game was originally conceived as punishment for those who doubted and questioned the Pagan religion. Me being a stout atheist, I might as well suffer it too, y'know?
The rules are simple(ish). First, you take a piece of blank paper and write your full name on it. (first, middle and last) Then, you poke your finger and get a drop of blood and smear it next to your name on the piece of paper.
Next, just before 12:00 AM, you place the paper down on the ground in front of your front door, light a candle and place it on top of the paper; knock 22 times on your front (wooden) door making the twenty-second knock exactly at 12.
Then, you open your front door, blow out your candle, and re-light it. You have just invited the midnight man into your home. Equipped with nothing more than your lit candle and a container of salt, you must now wonder around your house in complete darkness until 3:33 AM.
Signs you're close to the Midnight Man are as follows: a sudden change in temperature, or your candle going out mysteriously. If that happens, you must either re-light your candle within ten seconds or stop in place, create a circle of salt where you are, and stay there for the rest of the night.
At 3:33, if you followed the instructions well, will be free of the Midnight Man. But from now on, he will always be watching you.
Fuck You, I'm Uncircumcised
I don't know why here in the United States that the mutilation of dicks is such a common practice. I'm goddamn happy that my parents didn't let the doctors cut off my manhood! In case you don't know, circumcision is the horrifying act of cutting a newly-born baby's foreskin off!
I feel so bad for everyone who has gotten the unfortunate procedure done to them! How dare they do it at birth; why not let the kid decide, goddammit! It is his cock, you know?
Jesus, shit like this gets me so pissed off.
I feel so bad for everyone who has gotten the unfortunate procedure done to them! How dare they do it at birth; why not let the kid decide, goddammit! It is his cock, you know?
Jesus, shit like this gets me so pissed off.
Bitter Ramblings From an Author with ADHD.
Okay, well, I actually don't have ADHD; or at least I haven't been formally diagnosed. But no matter, because I have a horrid tendency to start something, become encompassed in it completely, then never finish it. Fuck, does this annoy me! If one was to search through my computer long enough, and managed to completely miss all of the fucked up, depraved porn on there, they'd find a stash of plot outlines, character sheets, unfinished books, individual chapters, unfinished screenplays. The whole nine yards, basically.
A part of me is really turned on by the fact that I have so much work to complete before I bite the dust. I mean, think about it: I'm fifteen, so if I have a seemingly-endless collection of work begging to be finished, and I do this all of the time; then I never have to worry about "writer's block". I have an infinite slew of stuff to do! If I ever grow tired of writing a book about an Arabian midget and his struggle to become a woman, well then I have a whole different book about a Chilean man and his love affair with a toaster! I never have to worry about finding new ideas! Yay!
On the flip-side, however...I'll never be able to finish it all! If I keep doing this shit, by the time I pass on, I will have a whole library of unfinished work! Why is this horrible, you wonder? Well, what if I become a well-respected author and the books and screenplays I do manage to finish in my life are critically acclaimed; then all of the sudden I drop dead of a massive heart attack at age 40. Uh-oh, this isn't good. Now twenty years after I pass, two-or-three yuppie assholes are going to try and "complete my work" and they fuck it up worse than I could've ever done. I'd haunt their asses!
Plus, a lot of my work is shit. Really bad shit, I might add. But they have the potential to be brilliant! What if someone stumbles onto my work and they read it and go: "Jesus H. Christ! This fucking sucks!" and then my reputation and/or memories as a good writer are tarnished! Fuck! Most of the shit on my computer will be from my youth. So, of course it'll fucking blow donkey dick! They won't know that, though!
I guess there are pros and cons to the matter, but regardless I just want to begin and finish a project in one fucking sitting, goddammit!
A part of me is really turned on by the fact that I have so much work to complete before I bite the dust. I mean, think about it: I'm fifteen, so if I have a seemingly-endless collection of work begging to be finished, and I do this all of the time; then I never have to worry about "writer's block". I have an infinite slew of stuff to do! If I ever grow tired of writing a book about an Arabian midget and his struggle to become a woman, well then I have a whole different book about a Chilean man and his love affair with a toaster! I never have to worry about finding new ideas! Yay!
On the flip-side, however...I'll never be able to finish it all! If I keep doing this shit, by the time I pass on, I will have a whole library of unfinished work! Why is this horrible, you wonder? Well, what if I become a well-respected author and the books and screenplays I do manage to finish in my life are critically acclaimed; then all of the sudden I drop dead of a massive heart attack at age 40. Uh-oh, this isn't good. Now twenty years after I pass, two-or-three yuppie assholes are going to try and "complete my work" and they fuck it up worse than I could've ever done. I'd haunt their asses!
Plus, a lot of my work is shit. Really bad shit, I might add. But they have the potential to be brilliant! What if someone stumbles onto my work and they read it and go: "Jesus H. Christ! This fucking sucks!" and then my reputation and/or memories as a good writer are tarnished! Fuck! Most of the shit on my computer will be from my youth. So, of course it'll fucking blow donkey dick! They won't know that, though!
I guess there are pros and cons to the matter, but regardless I just want to begin and finish a project in one fucking sitting, goddammit!
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
Last Night I Talked to Ghosts, and Shit
I was rather bored last night, and being a terrible insomniac, I wasn't sleeping. So, whilst reading some creepypastas and being scared shitless; I wanted to start fuckin' with some ghosts. I'm a sceptic of the paranormal, you see? Even though when I was a small child I saw "shadow people" all the time.
So, last night I read up about this game called: "The Ouija Cards" which I'll give you gist on what to do:
1. Take a deck of normal playing cards.
2. Sprinkle them with salt.
3. Shuffle them.
4. Place them in three, two columned rows with six cards in each.
5. Light a candle and place it above the cards. (Like on a desk, or table.)
6. Ask it questions.
You move your hands slowly over each card and when it feels overwhelmingly warm you flip it over and it answers your "yes/no" question.
A card with a heart means yes, a spade means no, diamonds mean maybe and a club means unsure.
I was hella scared when I asked it the time, the date and my name and got all the right answers accordingly. (i.e "Is my name Josh?" and I would flip over a heart.)
It was hella creepy.
So, last night I read up about this game called: "The Ouija Cards" which I'll give you gist on what to do:
1. Take a deck of normal playing cards.
2. Sprinkle them with salt.
3. Shuffle them.
4. Place them in three, two columned rows with six cards in each.
5. Light a candle and place it above the cards. (Like on a desk, or table.)
6. Ask it questions.
You move your hands slowly over each card and when it feels overwhelmingly warm you flip it over and it answers your "yes/no" question.
A card with a heart means yes, a spade means no, diamonds mean maybe and a club means unsure.
I was hella scared when I asked it the time, the date and my name and got all the right answers accordingly. (i.e "Is my name Josh?" and I would flip over a heart.)
It was hella creepy.
Monday, June 24, 2013
So, I'm Popular in Russia...
Russia is apparently my second biggest country for views (America, obviously, being my first). I was actually very surprised upon reading that! I had no idea that the Russians love me so much! Is it because I like Regina Spektor? Or possibly because I'm in favour of pure communism? Perhaps it's because one of the few songs I like written by Paul McCartney is Back in the USSR? Maybe it's even because I really want to bang Mila Kunis? (She was born in the Soviet Union, y'know?)
Perhaps it's a bit of all of those things. Maybe, and hold on 'cause this one is crazy; maybe they like my content? I know, right? Crazy. I don't think any of those previously aforementioned facts were ever made known until litterally 9 lines ago...fuck, that number keeps showing up in my life; I need to make a post about that shit, it's scaring me now. Anyway, I just thought I'd thank my Russian fans for the views. It's always appreciated.
Perhaps it's a bit of all of those things. Maybe, and hold on 'cause this one is crazy; maybe they like my content? I know, right? Crazy. I don't think any of those previously aforementioned facts were ever made known until litterally 9 lines ago...fuck, that number keeps showing up in my life; I need to make a post about that shit, it's scaring me now. Anyway, I just thought I'd thank my Russian fans for the views. It's always appreciated.
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