It was a time when nothing was -.
She was free from their charges but held prisoner in her own body. The house was quiet of disaster, cockroaches were nowhere to be spotted. The walls were splashed with guilt and marvelous pleasure, a dark one. She locked all the doors in an upsetting motion. Bu,t he lives inside her. Under her bed, in her closet, on the white obscure lamp. Once, she opened the ceiling to get the air to change in hopes of getting him to leave.
But, he didnt leave, nor would he ever, the bastard.
I remember the night I started running like a maniac. shamelessly, I gathered the pieces and cast the spell. A spoon full of urine helps the medicine go down. I remember the exact shirt I wore, it was a blue shirt that had a University symbol embellishing the left corner of its blues. Dauntless, to her surprise.
It was pouring that night, in the summer, and nothing got wet but this little wrong thing that he never returned. It was the second Thursday in a chain of evil Thursdays.
Due to your relish for her certificate, certificate to insanity, she now accepts you.
You no longer creep from way under the bed,these days, you get a careless invitation to hop in.
I know she will never.
Herein, I mark a digression.
Give it back.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
sticks
I dont really know what to make of this. One day Im this and the next, Im that.
Im certainly not the type to be proud of meeting, not that Im underestimating the power of my existence, just shrinking it a little bit to its rightful size, I suppose.
I bought some drums.
It sounds insane, but yes I certainly, without doubt, have drums all over the floor and it drives me crazy because I dont even want to play the drums.
Lets ignore the fact that my decision making system is damaged to no repair, take you for example, steady you, strong you. You like someone. You fancy them. You buy them with sweet phony love, and once they are truly yours to have, you wished you hadnt even want them in the first place. Im such a jerk its insane.
this is not even a lovely post, Im sorry, Im just insanely disappointed with myself, Sorry.
Maybe I do want to play the drums, maybe I was right for doubting myself in the fist place.
Me and the drums, we will just have to be secretly in love with each other, or otherwise secretly in despair.
Im certainly not the type to be proud of meeting, not that Im underestimating the power of my existence, just shrinking it a little bit to its rightful size, I suppose.
I bought some drums.
It sounds insane, but yes I certainly, without doubt, have drums all over the floor and it drives me crazy because I dont even want to play the drums.
Lets ignore the fact that my decision making system is damaged to no repair, take you for example, steady you, strong you. You like someone. You fancy them. You buy them with sweet phony love, and once they are truly yours to have, you wished you hadnt even want them in the first place. Im such a jerk its insane.
this is not even a lovely post, Im sorry, Im just insanely disappointed with myself, Sorry.
Maybe I do want to play the drums, maybe I was right for doubting myself in the fist place.
Me and the drums, we will just have to be secretly in love with each other, or otherwise secretly in despair.
Friday, December 2, 2011
She wore a tight short skirt over silky tights, the see through kind that leaves you nowhere but hanging for more. She was all black from her puffy cardigan to her very dark blue shoes.
She looked great because she had long long legs. But little did She know about the functioning of her that night.
It started out dry, comforting in a way as she stuck another vegetable down her throat. There were 10 people maybe 15 at a time, coming and going while maintaining a kind of quiet that needed so the neighbors wont flip.
Her hair was nice that night and she gave an extra minute to completing her make up. She was swell. She really was.
And the night didnt show any signs when the 4th shot started kicking in, She was amused with its wonders. She has never been under it, she planned it, fearfully, she was under control.
She kept the name of her valentine like a grudge and even when he changed' under it', and a flow of red jealousy washed her long cold legs She didnt even grimace or make a face. When he wanted some other girl, She didnt say a thing, there was nothing to say, it didnt hurt, just like a mosquito bite, to say the truth.
The three of them, the for if you are including the ghost of She, sat behind a parked car behind the gate that made her realize that she had reached the under it. they were pursing lips together and when She sat down amazed a girl gaveher the cigarette so She could do the same, transmit smoke to her. She said no.
But then she agreed and the girls bonded in a lip locking motion that didn't involve the nastiness of the tongue.
And then She saw him and her doing the same and she thought they were kissing even though that girl asked him to forget about the tongue. The third person, another guy, wanted Her to do the same with him. She said no. But then she agreed. It was forced on her. And then there was tongue and she pulled away and said without the tongue,please. And he held her.
And she doesnt recall the whole thing she knows parts of it. The rythem of his tongue, the way he felt up and down her ghost. The way she hated herself afterwards. The regret versus the sweetness of his cheating hold. He didnt like her, not much, not even a little not even at all.
She is kind of through now, with boys and friends and birthdays and things that have an edgy strong smell to them. She is "swell".
I hope she will get over it, soon.
She looked great because she had long long legs. But little did She know about the functioning of her that night.
It started out dry, comforting in a way as she stuck another vegetable down her throat. There were 10 people maybe 15 at a time, coming and going while maintaining a kind of quiet that needed so the neighbors wont flip.
Her hair was nice that night and she gave an extra minute to completing her make up. She was swell. She really was.
And the night didnt show any signs when the 4th shot started kicking in, She was amused with its wonders. She has never been under it, she planned it, fearfully, she was under control.
She kept the name of her valentine like a grudge and even when he changed' under it', and a flow of red jealousy washed her long cold legs She didnt even grimace or make a face. When he wanted some other girl, She didnt say a thing, there was nothing to say, it didnt hurt, just like a mosquito bite, to say the truth.
The three of them, the for if you are including the ghost of She, sat behind a parked car behind the gate that made her realize that she had reached the under it. they were pursing lips together and when She sat down amazed a girl gaveher the cigarette so She could do the same, transmit smoke to her. She said no.
But then she agreed and the girls bonded in a lip locking motion that didn't involve the nastiness of the tongue.
And then She saw him and her doing the same and she thought they were kissing even though that girl asked him to forget about the tongue. The third person, another guy, wanted Her to do the same with him. She said no. But then she agreed. It was forced on her. And then there was tongue and she pulled away and said without the tongue,please. And he held her.
And she doesnt recall the whole thing she knows parts of it. The rythem of his tongue, the way he felt up and down her ghost. The way she hated herself afterwards. The regret versus the sweetness of his cheating hold. He didnt like her, not much, not even a little not even at all.
She is kind of through now, with boys and friends and birthdays and things that have an edgy strong smell to them. She is "swell".
I hope she will get over it, soon.
Monday, November 14, 2011
aye
But you know that I'm no good. Ever.
But you are aware of my never ending failure.
But you are aware I never cross any lines, Im ordinary, never to be expected to shine.
Take a dim view of me, of this world leaking relish for life's superficiality.
And to think im subordinate, what will be of me tomorrow when my lids fail to rest on thoughts?
What will be of me tonight when the lone and lorn of night sneaks upon me?
Will my stomach spill to the lake?
Where do I go when there is no use for me anymore? What if out of mercy I will remain, taunted by the thought of living desolated by the sense of acting. Where do people go, where do they fucking go when they grow up? Where? I want to know exactly where so I could say my good byes. How am I to know when? What if I change completely and I never get to even little as to embellish my old self. Fuck, explain, explain, why knowledge is acquirable and not nothing to do with knowing, just repeating and revising and speaking a truth not known to us, but acquired to us. Do we really grow up! Do we? We die, we die every moment of every second, because we are never the same, we have just died. I dont want to be an abridgment of my future self, let alone a compromised being of my present one. Where will I truly be tomorrow, am I going to die young and an old soul will take over my body, like a substitute teacher fighting to win the class attention, revisiting a past without actually living it?
I dont want to ever grow up.
if there are any doubts regarding the now, I am to clear the air and say, I might be that and I might be with. They are very intelligent and I enjoy their company at any given time.
others like:
E is still on my missed calls list and T is still pretending to be something she is not, I can easily out you.
But you are aware of my never ending failure.
But you are aware I never cross any lines, Im ordinary, never to be expected to shine.
Take a dim view of me, of this world leaking relish for life's superficiality.
And to think im subordinate, what will be of me tomorrow when my lids fail to rest on thoughts?
What will be of me tonight when the lone and lorn of night sneaks upon me?
Will my stomach spill to the lake?
Where do I go when there is no use for me anymore? What if out of mercy I will remain, taunted by the thought of living desolated by the sense of acting. Where do people go, where do they fucking go when they grow up? Where? I want to know exactly where so I could say my good byes. How am I to know when? What if I change completely and I never get to even little as to embellish my old self. Fuck, explain, explain, why knowledge is acquirable and not nothing to do with knowing, just repeating and revising and speaking a truth not known to us, but acquired to us. Do we really grow up! Do we? We die, we die every moment of every second, because we are never the same, we have just died. I dont want to be an abridgment of my future self, let alone a compromised being of my present one. Where will I truly be tomorrow, am I going to die young and an old soul will take over my body, like a substitute teacher fighting to win the class attention, revisiting a past without actually living it?
I dont want to ever grow up.
if there are any doubts regarding the now, I am to clear the air and say, I might be that and I might be with. They are very intelligent and I enjoy their company at any given time.
others like:
E is still on my missed calls list and T is still pretending to be something she is not, I can easily out you.
Friday, October 14, 2011
Cosmogony
As for life,
its a homogeneous bunch of chewed periods, to say the least. When the time is being handed to me I let it slip through my fingers, its a game of deciet. Time and me, we treat one another with feathery wiles , we chat away the lies in a smoky shell of boredom. Boredom is skin deep and maybe even deeper.
I want the truth. Is the night an end to the day or is the day an end to the night. Am I more alive when asleep or is it the other way around. Only,when you think its clear to you, you manage to pull another contagious thought, It moves the balance of the earth.
Yes, you, can easily shatter the earth, easily change the playground with every move you initiate. You can raze and wreck for all I know. When you step out of the house for just 5 minutes you might encounter something that would change you, would change the balance of- well,you. Your unbalanced being would probably affect people around you and they would affect the people around them. This is such a horrible thing. You are never to be trusted to keep in control. To manipulate. Introducing things to others changes them, it simply does even if its just a new word, it just does. What if teaching is harming? What if sharing is deadly? What if one bit of information will ruin them and leave you to observe the shrivel?
What if , I was harmed and destroyed and bashed? Maybe educating me brought an end to my being, the more educated you get the less you actually know? Somebody, something, is forcing their way upon you. Who are they to affix the quality of knowledge or the content of knowledge anyways. What if we knew it better while being infants? What if we were at the best possible state of knowledge as babies and now modern knowledge is playing with our mind? We know what they want us to know, just enough to make fools out of us. Just because it was considered provoking to doubt the theory of the earth being square doesn't mean that our generation of modern being and knowledge doesn't hold the same inapt beliefs that are now taught to every child. Look how square we are, look. Look how we swallow without complaint how we never stop to doubt. Maybe because there is nothing to doubt for it is all solid and true. Maybe we just are righteously educated. Or maybe, we are over powered by a strict manipulating way of life, a box, that holds us tight in the pattern: we go to school, we graduate, we go to college or to the army, we major in something and we get a job and we get married and have babies and then, we die. With the same bitter taste of knowledge, of life.
I wish I knew, but then again, maybe I don't.
Mat
its a homogeneous bunch of chewed periods, to say the least. When the time is being handed to me I let it slip through my fingers, its a game of deciet. Time and me, we treat one another with feathery wiles , we chat away the lies in a smoky shell of boredom. Boredom is skin deep and maybe even deeper.
I want the truth. Is the night an end to the day or is the day an end to the night. Am I more alive when asleep or is it the other way around. Only,when you think its clear to you, you manage to pull another contagious thought, It moves the balance of the earth.
Yes, you, can easily shatter the earth, easily change the playground with every move you initiate. You can raze and wreck for all I know. When you step out of the house for just 5 minutes you might encounter something that would change you, would change the balance of- well,you. Your unbalanced being would probably affect people around you and they would affect the people around them. This is such a horrible thing. You are never to be trusted to keep in control. To manipulate. Introducing things to others changes them, it simply does even if its just a new word, it just does. What if teaching is harming? What if sharing is deadly? What if one bit of information will ruin them and leave you to observe the shrivel?
What if , I was harmed and destroyed and bashed? Maybe educating me brought an end to my being, the more educated you get the less you actually know? Somebody, something, is forcing their way upon you. Who are they to affix the quality of knowledge or the content of knowledge anyways. What if we knew it better while being infants? What if we were at the best possible state of knowledge as babies and now modern knowledge is playing with our mind? We know what they want us to know, just enough to make fools out of us. Just because it was considered provoking to doubt the theory of the earth being square doesn't mean that our generation of modern being and knowledge doesn't hold the same inapt beliefs that are now taught to every child. Look how square we are, look. Look how we swallow without complaint how we never stop to doubt. Maybe because there is nothing to doubt for it is all solid and true. Maybe we just are righteously educated. Or maybe, we are over powered by a strict manipulating way of life, a box, that holds us tight in the pattern: we go to school, we graduate, we go to college or to the army, we major in something and we get a job and we get married and have babies and then, we die. With the same bitter taste of knowledge, of life.
I wish I knew, but then again, maybe I don't.
Mat
Monday, September 26, 2011
truck
You know what Ive been thinking? Ive been thinking about weird things, childish, I suppose.
Yesterday, when I was tailing behind on the sideways leading to School, I saw it. It was a humongous truck and when it blew by me I thought there was nothing as impressive as that particular humongous truck. That second the world turned dull, it was just me and that truck. It is a miracle it even got away with its presence for the street is very tiny and not at all programmed to fit this size of a vehicle. The beautiful thing was that it was an M&M's truck. I focused my gaze on the back door and imagined it opening quietly, next thing I knew, I was swimming in an ocean full of M&Ms in this internal world of imagination, mind you.
I pictured myself diving like I was in those kids play pools they have in McDonalds, only the balls were tiny M&Ms! Vividly enough, the world took over my breathing flesh! in that egg shell of a mind I pictured myself munching the M&Ms under "water". I knew that when Im through and will be ready to hop on to boredom kingdom Id fill my school bag with some colorful chocolate round stars. I will be the proud owner of the biggest M&M supply in the whole universe! I thought that the M&Ms would leave marks of colors on my skin from diving so deep in the truck but I was enchanted by their presence enough to understand it was somewhat impossible, it wasnt really happening, if it was, Id probably be the prettiest guy on earth. I got to Gym class so clean it was a shame to sweat the tidiness out!
And you know what else? How,now, after I destroyed two tea cups of red jello , I think, I've never seen you eat. I've seen you drink, I've seen you smoke but I've never ever seen you eat. Maybe I shall buy you M&Ms and tuck them safely under your bag, anonymously, and then, I would watch you eat, like, really truly eat. Id probably feel good about it too so I don't mind sharing my lifetime supply of sassy M&Ms with someone who I've never seen eating, you know, eat will you? I'm curious to observe, I'm curious to know how the hell do you- eat. Its quite impossible that you dont.
Mat
Mat
Saturday, September 24, 2011
orders up.
Its fall, again.
Its nostalgic and awakening at once.
I dont know what to say to you, I dont know how to make this fair.
Its not like I care.
Because I'd like to think that I don't. Ever.
And my hands are dripping oily dreams, splattering sickness all over the screen.
this is not a poem, just a short recap of the situation, you see.
I'll never write a poem about you.
I lied before.
When you sit there and look at me and I cant really make out your eyes out of the whole picture Im scanning and searching for them but they perished out of my sight.
What do you look like?
What are they today?
Are you going to ask me again how wide your pupils are?
And Ill sink like little boats of butter down the filthy waters of your eyes.
If I knew any better Id get my presence straight, I'd stop thinking and my existence would get that much more bearable.
Its fall again, now I have expired.
I suppose that when you are you and your hands are not dripping oily regrets on the keys, you make reservations for the next life,
tip the waiter this time, you might score a better table
a better seat
the next time around.
Fall moments are so precious.
Its nostalgic and awakening at once.
I dont know what to say to you, I dont know how to make this fair.
Its not like I care.
Because I'd like to think that I don't. Ever.
And my hands are dripping oily dreams, splattering sickness all over the screen.
this is not a poem, just a short recap of the situation, you see.
I'll never write a poem about you.
I lied before.
When you sit there and look at me and I cant really make out your eyes out of the whole picture Im scanning and searching for them but they perished out of my sight.
What do you look like?
What are they today?
Are you going to ask me again how wide your pupils are?
And Ill sink like little boats of butter down the filthy waters of your eyes.
If I knew any better Id get my presence straight, I'd stop thinking and my existence would get that much more bearable.
Its fall again, now I have expired.
I suppose that when you are you and your hands are not dripping oily regrets on the keys, you make reservations for the next life,
tip the waiter this time, you might score a better table
a better seat
the next time around.
Fall moments are so precious.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Asleep
Dear you,
I dont really know who you are but you probably exist and as soon as I manage to pull your name out of my hat I'll make sure to contact you and send you lots of real letters, because I think real letters are great. There is this thing I do, a lot, and its calld 'saving drafts'. yes, I'm writing you emails about me and I never send them out because I'm not sure who to address these crappy emails to. I hope you are not a ghost in my head because I have read a short story about an old lady blaming demons and ghosts for her severe Alzheimer . Im not nearly as old.
The school year has started 13 days ago and I see how the typical 'magic' and shine fade off and away like the memory of a late nights' dream. It has started very numb , I still walk the halls of my high school unconsciously, like the same ghosts Im afraid of finding in my closet. I saw many people I chose to forget over the summer not because they have done me any harm but because their presence reminded me of hypocritical sickening sweet candy corn apples which I always hated terribly (even though they were always very tempting). Im sure you would find it nice to hear that I haven't joined the Ambulance crew for my extracurricular activity (I couldnt bear the thought of making a decision quite yet), or a grade four counselor boy at the 'Nests' political organization kids center. I need to find a place to have my community service hours done, though.
School? School. I almost freaked when I mowed and looked at the word 'school' the other day and started rephrasing it and making it into a 'shcool' , Im pretty sure this is not the correct way of seeing things especially when my scheduel is filled with 7 weekly hours of Math, 4 of Physics, 3 of Biology and 2 Chemistry. Science is not on my side, Houston? I dont know
. I'm yelling " WAKE UP, WAKE UP!" over and over to myself and Im still numb. I am watching my life from the outside and I cant manage to move a step forward. I postponed every single decision need to be made and never took that drums lessons I was yearning to take. Im munching over the same old thoughts and I cant seem to slap myself back into life. You see, Im too over whelmed by High School and all so I figured to give it some time and postpone the freaking out and do save it for later.
My new teacher told me Im not participating in life and she is so correct that it hurts, that Im not willing to step out of myself and take chances. I knew that without needing to hear it from her.
My pretty little blond sister just sat next to me 10 minutes ago, we've been head- to- head teasing eachother with her dancing to all the stupid music I let her listen to but somehow when she sank next to me on the couch she didnt seem like a foe. She held some litretaure paper I later discovered was a biography of this writer they have been talking about in class. First, I didnt pay attention to her vivid telling but when I caught the second rough sentence peeping out of her mouth, I asked her to start from the beginning, you know how those kids are when it comes to telling a story. She said this female writer they learned about lost her Father at the age of 5 and their assignment was to write a summary of her biography. Then, suddenly, a kid bursted out crying in the middle of class complaining how he lost his Father at the age of four and nobody wrote a Biography about him. Her eyes got sadder by the minute. He said that it would be nice if people asked him how he were and how he felt about it every once in a while and the other kids said that they thougt it was a fragile topic and didnt want to hurt him or remind him of something that he has to carry with hime everyday already.
When she finished describing the torn kid and his breakdown in class I offered her to write him a note, like a secret santa note, anonymously, and ask him how he was and write him funny things. She agreed that she would make as many nice notes as his secret admirer as she could manage and we really had a moment of sympathy,there. Plus, I just think I found my community service oppurtonity, while writing this.
I already have another post in the making and I didnt even say too much about my day or yesterday or the charming books Im now reading.
Love always,
Mat
I dont really know who you are but you probably exist and as soon as I manage to pull your name out of my hat I'll make sure to contact you and send you lots of real letters, because I think real letters are great. There is this thing I do, a lot, and its calld 'saving drafts'. yes, I'm writing you emails about me and I never send them out because I'm not sure who to address these crappy emails to. I hope you are not a ghost in my head because I have read a short story about an old lady blaming demons and ghosts for her severe Alzheimer . Im not nearly as old.
The school year has started 13 days ago and I see how the typical 'magic' and shine fade off and away like the memory of a late nights' dream. It has started very numb , I still walk the halls of my high school unconsciously, like the same ghosts Im afraid of finding in my closet. I saw many people I chose to forget over the summer not because they have done me any harm but because their presence reminded me of hypocritical sickening sweet candy corn apples which I always hated terribly (even though they were always very tempting). Im sure you would find it nice to hear that I haven't joined the Ambulance crew for my extracurricular activity (I couldnt bear the thought of making a decision quite yet), or a grade four counselor boy at the 'Nests' political organization kids center. I need to find a place to have my community service hours done, though.
School? School. I almost freaked when I mowed and looked at the word 'school' the other day and started rephrasing it and making it into a 'shcool' , Im pretty sure this is not the correct way of seeing things especially when my scheduel is filled with 7 weekly hours of Math, 4 of Physics, 3 of Biology and 2 Chemistry. Science is not on my side, Houston? I dont know
. I'm yelling " WAKE UP, WAKE UP!" over and over to myself and Im still numb. I am watching my life from the outside and I cant manage to move a step forward. I postponed every single decision need to be made and never took that drums lessons I was yearning to take. Im munching over the same old thoughts and I cant seem to slap myself back into life. You see, Im too over whelmed by High School and all so I figured to give it some time and postpone the freaking out and do save it for later.
My new teacher told me Im not participating in life and she is so correct that it hurts, that Im not willing to step out of myself and take chances. I knew that without needing to hear it from her.
My pretty little blond sister just sat next to me 10 minutes ago, we've been head- to- head teasing eachother with her dancing to all the stupid music I let her listen to but somehow when she sank next to me on the couch she didnt seem like a foe. She held some litretaure paper I later discovered was a biography of this writer they have been talking about in class. First, I didnt pay attention to her vivid telling but when I caught the second rough sentence peeping out of her mouth, I asked her to start from the beginning, you know how those kids are when it comes to telling a story. She said this female writer they learned about lost her Father at the age of 5 and their assignment was to write a summary of her biography. Then, suddenly, a kid bursted out crying in the middle of class complaining how he lost his Father at the age of four and nobody wrote a Biography about him. Her eyes got sadder by the minute. He said that it would be nice if people asked him how he were and how he felt about it every once in a while and the other kids said that they thougt it was a fragile topic and didnt want to hurt him or remind him of something that he has to carry with hime everyday already.
When she finished describing the torn kid and his breakdown in class I offered her to write him a note, like a secret santa note, anonymously, and ask him how he was and write him funny things. She agreed that she would make as many nice notes as his secret admirer as she could manage and we really had a moment of sympathy,there. Plus, I just think I found my community service oppurtonity, while writing this.
I already have another post in the making and I didnt even say too much about my day or yesterday or the charming books Im now reading.
Love always,
Mat
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Vomit.
No I haven't puked in such a long time its insane. With the nausea running through my body and settling in the pit of my stomach there's not much to do but to yank i tall out- mentally at least. I have eaten too much shit since 9pm, a toast, coco pops, tuna salad, pasta, wafer rolls...... get out already.
Perhaps the nausea is like an old friend, like, say, Mr. Depression that likes to crash over at my place every Tuesdays and Fridays crawl under my blanket and cuddle ,Mrs. Nausea is just an introduction,or perhaps a blend of every emotion Im capable of obtaining. All at once. Mostly those emotions could be shown as fear, even though Mrs. Nausea is too strong to let them show, only this low depressive blue nausea, thats what have become of these fears. there once existed the fear of growing up. The fear of staying young. The fear of falling behind. The fear of being under educated. The fear of being dumb-fully over educated. the fear of wasting wrinkle free years. the fear of not having a reason to wake up. The fear that my choices are yet to be made. The fear of the monsters under my bed, over my shoulder, behind my scalp, inside my brain. The fear of losing things I dont even own. Now they are Nausea because I ate them all up.
Id be lying if I said I wasn't praying for some reason to fall into my tired hands, a reason that would make this life pure and important. All i keep getting is people being bombed , girls being raped and boys being sent to war in diapers. Well, now, tell me this is something to look forward to?
----
Not much happened today, I went to the mall with E. Whose company is pretty legit these days because she needs me and I cant really object after whats been done to her. My vow of keeping them out is now broken because the minute I left that house troubles started clutching to its every feature and every soul and only I, I the ghostly , I, stayed numb with no control over this trip.
----
Mat
p.s- I might be working as a waiter but then again how am I going to fit that in?!? too soon to talk much?
No I haven't puked in such a long time its insane. With the nausea running through my body and settling in the pit of my stomach there's not much to do but to yank i tall out- mentally at least. I have eaten too much shit since 9pm, a toast, coco pops, tuna salad, pasta, wafer rolls...... get out already.
Perhaps the nausea is like an old friend, like, say, Mr. Depression that likes to crash over at my place every Tuesdays and Fridays crawl under my blanket and cuddle ,Mrs. Nausea is just an introduction,or perhaps a blend of every emotion Im capable of obtaining. All at once. Mostly those emotions could be shown as fear, even though Mrs. Nausea is too strong to let them show, only this low depressive blue nausea, thats what have become of these fears. there once existed the fear of growing up. The fear of staying young. The fear of falling behind. The fear of being under educated. The fear of being dumb-fully over educated. the fear of wasting wrinkle free years. the fear of not having a reason to wake up. The fear that my choices are yet to be made. The fear of the monsters under my bed, over my shoulder, behind my scalp, inside my brain. The fear of losing things I dont even own. Now they are Nausea because I ate them all up.
Id be lying if I said I wasn't praying for some reason to fall into my tired hands, a reason that would make this life pure and important. All i keep getting is people being bombed , girls being raped and boys being sent to war in diapers. Well, now, tell me this is something to look forward to?
----
Not much happened today, I went to the mall with E. Whose company is pretty legit these days because she needs me and I cant really object after whats been done to her. My vow of keeping them out is now broken because the minute I left that house troubles started clutching to its every feature and every soul and only I, I the ghostly , I, stayed numb with no control over this trip.
----
Mat
p.s- I might be working as a waiter but then again how am I going to fit that in?!? too soon to talk much?
Monday, August 15, 2011
Tomorrows qualities.
I don't want to reveal much about my day today, not that it was a bad day or anything, it was rather a day filled with about 6 bus rides (this is the new happiness scale?) and a sappy movie about hipsters that is too mainstream for actual hipsters to watch but I didnt care as long as Im out of the house and in fair company. I'll cut to the chase.
While browsing for good Internet reads (apparently no one is actually writing interesting things, please dig into your souls and start writing so I will never ever have to come to this stage again) I came across this hasty sentence about something I dont quite recall but it made me think I should write something of the same manner about how I'd like tomorrow to be. This makes sense in my mind, I swear.
Tomorrow
10:30- sun doesnt interfere with my rhythm nor do I over sleep till noon. This is the start point of my day. The cold breeze brings upon me the desires of winter, even though winter isnt due till a couple of months here (Say, in Chili it is winter now! -eg-) a boy can only dream. The wind is tickling my toes and I grab for the blanket in nostalgic motion. After 15 minute of mind control and internal propaganda, I sigh and lift my legs up in the air and in a vicious gesture I hop out of bed and down the hall to the bathroom.
11:45 "yes?" I say.
"Mathew, dude, we are starving move your lazy ass" Anne squeaks with dramatic pain into the phone.
" what, you didnt eat anything at all?" I questioned her.
"no, man, remember this is breakfast we are talking about, I'm not going to eat breakfast twice, then it wont be breaking my fast, moron"
"I'll be there in 5... wait make it 10" I'm always late, I buy myself some time and she hangs up like she usually does, without any goodbyes.
11:58
Anne and Charlie are in the bus stop wearing coats and boots, they wave for me to start running but its grey outside and all I want to do is just enjoy the coldness. The second I set foot on the booth the bus makes a halt and signals us to jump in. We do so, pay the driver and take a seat. Me and Charlie sit in our usual spot and Anne is faced our way on the opposite seat in front of us. We talk about everything and laugh a lot. We always have so much to talk about the three of us.
12:38
Jogging our way to the train , running because its about to leave without us.
13:15
We take off into the city air. Wow. Amazing.
" Charles," she always calls him Charles.
"Shall we go on and eat our Breakfast?" she continued.
" What about me?" I protest.
" You loser made me fast, you may come but only as our Family dog which we love but neglect on a daily basis" she answers joking.
" Yeah, Mat, its Lunch already" Charlie agrees.
" where should we go?" I ask.
" Um Pakin?" he answers looking over to Anne.
" what the same Chinese again?"
"you have a better idea?" he lifts his eyebrows like he usually does.
"I just wanted to see you sweat it, apparently you dont even care !" I joke
" Shut up,Pekin it is, Im going to eat you alive if we dont get there soon, Im starving!" Anne freaks. She really is hungry.
we walk over to the restaurant and it starts dripping slightly, it is wonderful, there is nothing that could make me happier than this walk with them.
14:00
"Are we ordering desert?" I ask.
" Maybe we should go find a new place for desert." Anne suggests.
" I couldnt agree more" Charlie says streaking his full belly with a huge smile on his face.
" You know it cant be ice cream"
"yeah, Mathew, we know"
" oh Im mathew Im allergic to icecream but I eat cheese and drink milk !" Anne says trying to imitate me.
"shut up, you both, ice cream is overrated" I say, defensive.
" Are you suggesting beaver tail is better?" Anne smells a challenge.
" Bet you 15 $ that Im going to have twice as much fun eating ice cream than beaver tale" she continues.
" thats not fair"
" bet's off? loser" she says. It reminds us of some other bet we had.
we laugh.
" look at this new kid working, Mat, whats her story" we look at this blonde short girl in the middle of the room. Charlie is starting the game that we love so much.
"oh, here, this is Bella, not as of Isabella, as of Bellatrix." I say and take a sip of my coke.
" She is 18, she has a boyfriend that works in the Tower Records in the mall and her daddy hates him. She is from a stable home and there is nothing interesting about her, yada yada yada" Charlie says.
" No,no ,no. the girl is the kind that saves up for a trip to India, look at her typicality blonde local 'Pot does my day but dont tell my daddy, he is going to be in shock when I sail off to India with my boyfriend' attitude, she is a good kid having some fun cant blame her" Anne corrects.
they look at me so I could be the judge.
"Lay, off, this is Bellatrix she is a senior she has no boyfriend and she works here so she could make money that doesn't include babysitting chimps" I conclude.
They both agree and we pay and leave.
The rest of the day we go around in the city. We laugh. Eat. Miss the train and finally get home with lots of good vibes. We go to the park and swing on the swings because I miss swinging on the swings even as an adult.
This is poorly written , very typical and stupid but this is what I need now, secretly. Anne and Charlie are a fruit of my imagination and I wish to own them in real life only they don't really exist. I'm going to continue the pattern in my head and APOLOGIZE for the low quality of today's post. For who ever is reading this, I know you are not really reading this, it ok. I needed this shit. Thanks
Mat
I dont want love because it doesn't exist for me. I want this. And winter days.
While browsing for good Internet reads (apparently no one is actually writing interesting things, please dig into your souls and start writing so I will never ever have to come to this stage again) I came across this hasty sentence about something I dont quite recall but it made me think I should write something of the same manner about how I'd like tomorrow to be. This makes sense in my mind, I swear.
Tomorrow
10:30- sun doesnt interfere with my rhythm nor do I over sleep till noon. This is the start point of my day. The cold breeze brings upon me the desires of winter, even though winter isnt due till a couple of months here (Say, in Chili it is winter now! -eg-) a boy can only dream. The wind is tickling my toes and I grab for the blanket in nostalgic motion. After 15 minute of mind control and internal propaganda, I sigh and lift my legs up in the air and in a vicious gesture I hop out of bed and down the hall to the bathroom.
11:45 "yes?" I say.
"Mathew, dude, we are starving move your lazy ass" Anne squeaks with dramatic pain into the phone.
" what, you didnt eat anything at all?" I questioned her.
"no, man, remember this is breakfast we are talking about, I'm not going to eat breakfast twice, then it wont be breaking my fast, moron"
"I'll be there in 5... wait make it 10" I'm always late, I buy myself some time and she hangs up like she usually does, without any goodbyes.
11:58
Anne and Charlie are in the bus stop wearing coats and boots, they wave for me to start running but its grey outside and all I want to do is just enjoy the coldness. The second I set foot on the booth the bus makes a halt and signals us to jump in. We do so, pay the driver and take a seat. Me and Charlie sit in our usual spot and Anne is faced our way on the opposite seat in front of us. We talk about everything and laugh a lot. We always have so much to talk about the three of us.
12:38
Jogging our way to the train , running because its about to leave without us.
13:15
We take off into the city air. Wow. Amazing.
" Charles," she always calls him Charles.
"Shall we go on and eat our Breakfast?" she continued.
" What about me?" I protest.
" You loser made me fast, you may come but only as our Family dog which we love but neglect on a daily basis" she answers joking.
" Yeah, Mat, its Lunch already" Charlie agrees.
" where should we go?" I ask.
" Um Pakin?" he answers looking over to Anne.
" what the same Chinese again?"
"you have a better idea?" he lifts his eyebrows like he usually does.
"I just wanted to see you sweat it, apparently you dont even care !" I joke
" Shut up,Pekin it is, Im going to eat you alive if we dont get there soon, Im starving!" Anne freaks. She really is hungry.
we walk over to the restaurant and it starts dripping slightly, it is wonderful, there is nothing that could make me happier than this walk with them.
14:00
"Are we ordering desert?" I ask.
" Maybe we should go find a new place for desert." Anne suggests.
" I couldnt agree more" Charlie says streaking his full belly with a huge smile on his face.
" You know it cant be ice cream"
"yeah, Mathew, we know"
" oh Im mathew Im allergic to icecream but I eat cheese and drink milk !" Anne says trying to imitate me.
"shut up, you both, ice cream is overrated" I say, defensive.
" Are you suggesting beaver tail is better?" Anne smells a challenge.
" Bet you 15 $ that Im going to have twice as much fun eating ice cream than beaver tale" she continues.
" thats not fair"
" bet's off? loser" she says. It reminds us of some other bet we had.
we laugh.
" look at this new kid working, Mat, whats her story" we look at this blonde short girl in the middle of the room. Charlie is starting the game that we love so much.
"oh, here, this is Bella, not as of Isabella, as of Bellatrix." I say and take a sip of my coke.
" She is 18, she has a boyfriend that works in the Tower Records in the mall and her daddy hates him. She is from a stable home and there is nothing interesting about her, yada yada yada" Charlie says.
" No,no ,no. the girl is the kind that saves up for a trip to India, look at her typicality blonde local 'Pot does my day but dont tell my daddy, he is going to be in shock when I sail off to India with my boyfriend' attitude, she is a good kid having some fun cant blame her" Anne corrects.
they look at me so I could be the judge.
"Lay, off, this is Bellatrix she is a senior she has no boyfriend and she works here so she could make money that doesn't include babysitting chimps" I conclude.
They both agree and we pay and leave.
The rest of the day we go around in the city. We laugh. Eat. Miss the train and finally get home with lots of good vibes. We go to the park and swing on the swings because I miss swinging on the swings even as an adult.
This is poorly written , very typical and stupid but this is what I need now, secretly. Anne and Charlie are a fruit of my imagination and I wish to own them in real life only they don't really exist. I'm going to continue the pattern in my head and APOLOGIZE for the low quality of today's post. For who ever is reading this, I know you are not really reading this, it ok. I needed this shit. Thanks
Mat
I dont want love because it doesn't exist for me. I want this. And winter days.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Its like the earth is divided into people that are here and people that arent. People who arent here could be anywhere, really, underground shielded by their graves or upstairs obtaining their believes, but, they cant be torn the way they are left, dead or alive in a never ending trip. Those would be the middle people the ones who are under the influence, who am I to judge whether they are present. Theoretically, the people who are here are being divided into addicts and non-addicts but again, who am I to pass judgement and conquer the tip of the iceberg with this never ending philosophy, think, are addicts living the real life and we non addicts are the ones being cleaned off of life?
I'm being whispered the answer and my heart starts whimpering with disease. Im a non user.
Would a user rather die in the care of his drug than live the sorrow life without it? Locked in a looping motion of sickening pain , never really existing without it, not manufacturing the real potential of their mind that used to create such marvelous visions. A mind that used to posses such extraordinary Ideas. I dont think drugs are the answer to begin with, if you dig into your mind you could create things and skills that would make you complete without the need to explore. Though, this need to explore the content of your own universe is as strong as ever and still , the snorting and popping and sniffing and injecting , are your most direct ticket to the underworld of your universe. There's no good without bad and when you are hooked. You are hooked.
I dont know what made me spill out about drug abuse,here. I thought , for a while, that this blog would get passed on with witty remarks on the web and that people will adore it and dig its vibe. I know this will not happen because my intelligence is very emotional and featuring myself as a smart writer would give you nothing but the wrong impression of what really lays behind my walls of secrecy. I dont know whether or not Im a good writer, all I know is Im sick of wankers crying out their misery with written scrolls of web blogs. I dont want to be perceived as one. Im in the middle of them crying and goofing around smartness teen blog writers, just like a junkie enjoying a little bit of both the world and its underground. I feel as if I cant totaly fight the emotional blurrs and smudges in my own writing even though letting them show would kill my chances of having any kind of blog related friendships or relationships. This all makes me pop out the word 'adolescent'. The energy strike and the thrill of loneliness and poor company. Im vomiting 'adolescent' in this blog.
I adore many creatures that go about on earth. Bloggers, writers, readers, Independent people and mostly teens that find themselves torn within themselves. If I could gather all of you and get to know each and every one of you, I would. I would. I would squeeze my eyes half shut and swallow back all the poison left in my throat and be very nice and polite and when Im ready to scream, I will not make a scene out of it. I will sway to the side and be very gentle. Only when the distance will be purchased may I be screaming quietly. Almost cheerfully. Without really moving the ballance of the earth, of course, I wouldnt want to do that.
I dont know what must change, but it got to change now, I keep on walking in circles and that only makes me worse. I suck at being a good friend and I suck at comitting to an idea. I wish I could just be captured correctly without even having to explain myself. Like, say, today at the beach. It was like I was correct, like my thoughts were leading me into the right directions and the tremendous waves that knocked me down once or twice were understanding, almost apologetic. I thought about me thinking. I flipped inside my own body and stood strong against my own mind. Split. I thought about me touching the sand and then again about me being some kind of a lunatic inside my own head, it was correct. Refreshing. I was a penguin, a dancing penguin like in that children movie about the penguin who danced and danced and got lost and couldn't find his kind. I danced and danced persuading a reality that didnt exist, loosing myself completely in the process and loosing my kind. The beach is such a perfect place , I would love to spend it with someone I care about, my kind, I thought as I walked in the shallow water. I picked up an elegant grey rock and helf on to it for a while. I thought, I would get rid of these heavy clothes and wear something airy that the wind would cherish, Ill inhabit in a little tent with them and cover myself with a blanket when the wind gets tired of holding back its powers. It was ok to know I had plans , even though they are like junk to my rookie veins.
Mat
I slipped the rock back in my pocket.
I'm being whispered the answer and my heart starts whimpering with disease. Im a non user.
Would a user rather die in the care of his drug than live the sorrow life without it? Locked in a looping motion of sickening pain , never really existing without it, not manufacturing the real potential of their mind that used to create such marvelous visions. A mind that used to posses such extraordinary Ideas. I dont think drugs are the answer to begin with, if you dig into your mind you could create things and skills that would make you complete without the need to explore. Though, this need to explore the content of your own universe is as strong as ever and still , the snorting and popping and sniffing and injecting , are your most direct ticket to the underworld of your universe. There's no good without bad and when you are hooked. You are hooked.
I dont know what made me spill out about drug abuse,here. I thought , for a while, that this blog would get passed on with witty remarks on the web and that people will adore it and dig its vibe. I know this will not happen because my intelligence is very emotional and featuring myself as a smart writer would give you nothing but the wrong impression of what really lays behind my walls of secrecy. I dont know whether or not Im a good writer, all I know is Im sick of wankers crying out their misery with written scrolls of web blogs. I dont want to be perceived as one. Im in the middle of them crying and goofing around smartness teen blog writers, just like a junkie enjoying a little bit of both the world and its underground. I feel as if I cant totaly fight the emotional blurrs and smudges in my own writing even though letting them show would kill my chances of having any kind of blog related friendships or relationships. This all makes me pop out the word 'adolescent'. The energy strike and the thrill of loneliness and poor company. Im vomiting 'adolescent' in this blog.
I adore many creatures that go about on earth. Bloggers, writers, readers, Independent people and mostly teens that find themselves torn within themselves. If I could gather all of you and get to know each and every one of you, I would. I would. I would squeeze my eyes half shut and swallow back all the poison left in my throat and be very nice and polite and when Im ready to scream, I will not make a scene out of it. I will sway to the side and be very gentle. Only when the distance will be purchased may I be screaming quietly. Almost cheerfully. Without really moving the ballance of the earth, of course, I wouldnt want to do that.
I dont know what must change, but it got to change now, I keep on walking in circles and that only makes me worse. I suck at being a good friend and I suck at comitting to an idea. I wish I could just be captured correctly without even having to explain myself. Like, say, today at the beach. It was like I was correct, like my thoughts were leading me into the right directions and the tremendous waves that knocked me down once or twice were understanding, almost apologetic. I thought about me thinking. I flipped inside my own body and stood strong against my own mind. Split. I thought about me touching the sand and then again about me being some kind of a lunatic inside my own head, it was correct. Refreshing. I was a penguin, a dancing penguin like in that children movie about the penguin who danced and danced and got lost and couldn't find his kind. I danced and danced persuading a reality that didnt exist, loosing myself completely in the process and loosing my kind. The beach is such a perfect place , I would love to spend it with someone I care about, my kind, I thought as I walked in the shallow water. I picked up an elegant grey rock and helf on to it for a while. I thought, I would get rid of these heavy clothes and wear something airy that the wind would cherish, Ill inhabit in a little tent with them and cover myself with a blanket when the wind gets tired of holding back its powers. It was ok to know I had plans , even though they are like junk to my rookie veins.
Mat
I slipped the rock back in my pocket.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Town
I remember how this one time I came back after a quick shower and I told someone I had just washed the day away (or was it off?) , he liked that. I think I have lightened the possibility of getting rid of the dirt of the day for that kid. He asked if he could borrow it, I happily gave him permission to do so. I have never thought about me seeing the shower as something way more ceremony connected than most people but I guess you could say that taking a shower for me is just like a washing the day off ceremony. Here I am now, clean and stumped with junk food after a ceremony indeed, trying to put the dirt I just shook off in order for my existence to make sense.
Im borrowing an imaginary comb from the world. Im combing out bits and pieces of life as I know it. Mostly Im just very lazy, I sleep in and watch TV when I rise like a superficial materialistic zombie, I suppose. Im not even very picky concerning the movies and films my mind swallows daily, just because there isnt much to watch anyways. Most days pass me by like ghosts. Numb, dull, nothing special swirls in my brain. Most days, after I watch Tv, I make an effort and study a little of Math and then when the opportunity knocks on the door, I go out and make some cash from English tutoring or babysitting little elfs. From time to time, I go out and meet figures that mean nothing to me and that fill me with anticipation to meet the real deal. Mother claims Im just looking for friendships that dont exist but she better be glad Im not looking for those things in drugs because that could easily fill in the blanks, and I wont of course, experiment.
I like books. Now Im reading, "Girl, Interrupted" its a good book, Im dunking it down my throat. Im also mingling my time and sharing it with Trainspotting. My book fetish is weirdly dumb becuase I just like gripping the books, most books I dont even finish. I got a gift card to a well known book shop, 50 fair dollars. The car
d is still secured and kept well in my wallet for when I see the book of my life. Its hard to just buy any book with that money.
About an hour ago, I was on top of the town. there is this new roof they built in the new shopping center , the department of Teen Culture runs it now. that wast a sophisticated joke. And this was a a stupid remark about jokes. I stood on the edge, a righteous place which could easily be used for suicidal purposes. I hadnt jumped. If you were to ask me again tomorrow , my answer would have been unknown.
On my way home I passed by the school. Its a row of very ugly orange triangular shaped buildings, I thought to myself quietly, this place is so un inviting and yet again, I miss the winter here. I envy my old self who was shoved to the corner by studing when its cold and fresh and nude. This place is kind of inviting , like a hospital, really. I like hospitals , not because I know lots of doctors,but because I think they are like Hotels for freaks. And I like both hotels and freaks.
I thought about that OCD kid, thought really hard. Maybe we will be friends when school starts again and Maybe he will not discover what he is looking for in me. I hope we are all going to survive this.
Mathew
p.s there is no probability to see THEM, now, they are back in comfort zone town.
Im borrowing an imaginary comb from the world. Im combing out bits and pieces of life as I know it. Mostly Im just very lazy, I sleep in and watch TV when I rise like a superficial materialistic zombie, I suppose. Im not even very picky concerning the movies and films my mind swallows daily, just because there isnt much to watch anyways. Most days pass me by like ghosts. Numb, dull, nothing special swirls in my brain. Most days, after I watch Tv, I make an effort and study a little of Math and then when the opportunity knocks on the door, I go out and make some cash from English tutoring or babysitting little elfs. From time to time, I go out and meet figures that mean nothing to me and that fill me with anticipation to meet the real deal. Mother claims Im just looking for friendships that dont exist but she better be glad Im not looking for those things in drugs because that could easily fill in the blanks, and I wont of course, experiment.
I like books. Now Im reading, "Girl, Interrupted" its a good book, Im dunking it down my throat. Im also mingling my time and sharing it with Trainspotting. My book fetish is weirdly dumb becuase I just like gripping the books, most books I dont even finish. I got a gift card to a well known book shop, 50 fair dollars. The car
d is still secured and kept well in my wallet for when I see the book of my life. Its hard to just buy any book with that money.
About an hour ago, I was on top of the town. there is this new roof they built in the new shopping center , the department of Teen Culture runs it now. that wast a sophisticated joke. And this was a a stupid remark about jokes. I stood on the edge, a righteous place which could easily be used for suicidal purposes. I hadnt jumped. If you were to ask me again tomorrow , my answer would have been unknown.
On my way home I passed by the school. Its a row of very ugly orange triangular shaped buildings, I thought to myself quietly, this place is so un inviting and yet again, I miss the winter here. I envy my old self who was shoved to the corner by studing when its cold and fresh and nude. This place is kind of inviting , like a hospital, really. I like hospitals , not because I know lots of doctors,but because I think they are like Hotels for freaks. And I like both hotels and freaks.
I thought about that OCD kid, thought really hard. Maybe we will be friends when school starts again and Maybe he will not discover what he is looking for in me. I hope we are all going to survive this.
Mathew
p.s there is no probability to see THEM, now, they are back in comfort zone town.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
due to unconditional and sue me doesnt make any sense that I like - kind of title
I feel like I should really be more entertaining and less of a cry baby, I feel as if im just this little cunt that doesnt mean anything to anyone. I feel like Im stuck in this superficial box that prevents me from connecting to any living creature in the world. No one could ever connect to me, like being an ipod when there are only Samsung charges around.
Its not that I have zero friends its just that they are mates, they couldn't care less about me and I dont even have fun around them so , hey, I guess Im the forever the lonely wolf.
I hate this fur its making me choke cotton balls.
I had such a better post about demons and exorcism I don't know why I'm posting this one instead. Im in the deep.
Its not that I have zero friends its just that they are mates, they couldn't care less about me and I dont even have fun around them so , hey, I guess Im the forever the lonely wolf.
I hate this fur its making me choke cotton balls.
I had such a better post about demons and exorcism I don't know why I'm posting this one instead. Im in the deep.
Friday, August 5, 2011
tick-tok tickle clock.
03:49
Im not posting what I started writing because its long and exausting, really.
When have I stopped writing for pleasure? Why am I this blog creature, I ,usually, dont really see bloggers as quiet balanced people such as myself. Im not looking for attention and both, I dont know why I own this blog.
03:50
I should be making Zs
03:51
oh man I only have a minute to complete the sente
03:52
Im not that slow of a typer, I waited the whole minute so the point would be made, ye know.
This book im reading, Trainspotting, is really hard to deal with because it uses lots of misspellings as to emphasis on the cockney accent slang and street talk, I have to read it out loud with the whole accent in order to fully and unconditionally understand what Im reading. My brain is so old it cant process it any other sophisticated way. I do painfully announce that I sound bitterly awful and if any human being is ever crossing paths with a Trainspotting reader who recites out loud on the train please proceed with your rad little life, staring is rude, mama said.
03:58
the thought had crossed my mind earlier. This wave of lunatic electricity jolting through my brain with great sinew, only tickling the circulation of mainstream thoughts- the ones concerning getting married and going to university and having money and having a petite family. BUT this train reaction that led to the tickle couldnt have prepared me for the frightening disorder. please note this is not suicidal.
I thought about it while in Munich on top of the roof ay the Science Museum, gushed with knowledge that will soon flap its wings out the nest of my memory I thought about how going to cities with the whole family is terrible as parents . I thought, taking your kids on city vacations is making me feel so old and selfless , kind of routine and not creative. And then the odd of it all was that this mainstream plan we all have hacked into our hooks of future is now very much damaged, I don't want to have kids and be old and get married.I don't want to be stuck and make lots ay money for the sake of chasing it. I want to love and travel the world and never settle down for a minute. the thought triggered me and fired wierd emotion that added confusion tho the parade of confusion, as in order to comfort my soul, i tried thinking about raising one and only single child and going around with them. But this kid is going to be filled with issues and never have a stable life, plus , therapy costs have gone up and I really feel like saving up for a motorcycle. please note this was a joke, I was just trying to stress out the awe I feel toward regular life, or life at all, or making money. I mean I cant measure my success with money, or JOB, I dont care, and fairly I dont care about a thing no more. Happiness is not the deal either, nor is love, nor is power in my case, probably stupidity and self awareness Ive got those going on pretty well.jks. What is there to live for? Joy/??? Life's a bitch.
LIFE'S A BITCH
04:11
And then you marry one
AND THEN SHE HAS A SISTER
04:12
and then you
die.
Am I even really alive? Is this all in my head? I want to cross country the US, be everywhere.
04:26
after brutal editing.
Numb, Numb and hungry but wont feed the mouth because My point hasnt been made correctly and the meaning of life is still a mystery to me. However, the meaning of sleep is very very clear and crystal. SMASH.
Mat?
Im not posting what I started writing because its long and exausting, really.
When have I stopped writing for pleasure? Why am I this blog creature, I ,usually, dont really see bloggers as quiet balanced people such as myself. Im not looking for attention and both, I dont know why I own this blog.
03:50
I should be making Zs
03:51
oh man I only have a minute to complete the sente
03:52
Im not that slow of a typer, I waited the whole minute so the point would be made, ye know.
This book im reading, Trainspotting, is really hard to deal with because it uses lots of misspellings as to emphasis on the cockney accent slang and street talk, I have to read it out loud with the whole accent in order to fully and unconditionally understand what Im reading. My brain is so old it cant process it any other sophisticated way. I do painfully announce that I sound bitterly awful and if any human being is ever crossing paths with a Trainspotting reader who recites out loud on the train please proceed with your rad little life, staring is rude, mama said.
03:58
the thought had crossed my mind earlier. This wave of lunatic electricity jolting through my brain with great sinew, only tickling the circulation of mainstream thoughts- the ones concerning getting married and going to university and having money and having a petite family. BUT this train reaction that led to the tickle couldnt have prepared me for the frightening disorder. please note this is not suicidal.
I thought about it while in Munich on top of the roof ay the Science Museum, gushed with knowledge that will soon flap its wings out the nest of my memory I thought about how going to cities with the whole family is terrible as parents . I thought, taking your kids on city vacations is making me feel so old and selfless , kind of routine and not creative. And then the odd of it all was that this mainstream plan we all have hacked into our hooks of future is now very much damaged, I don't want to have kids and be old and get married.I don't want to be stuck and make lots ay money for the sake of chasing it. I want to love and travel the world and never settle down for a minute. the thought triggered me and fired wierd emotion that added confusion tho the parade of confusion, as in order to comfort my soul, i tried thinking about raising one and only single child and going around with them. But this kid is going to be filled with issues and never have a stable life, plus , therapy costs have gone up and I really feel like saving up for a motorcycle. please note this was a joke, I was just trying to stress out the awe I feel toward regular life, or life at all, or making money. I mean I cant measure my success with money, or JOB, I dont care, and fairly I dont care about a thing no more. Happiness is not the deal either, nor is love, nor is power in my case, probably stupidity and self awareness Ive got those going on pretty well.jks. What is there to live for? Joy/??? Life's a bitch.
LIFE'S A BITCH
04:11
And then you marry one
AND THEN SHE HAS A SISTER
04:12
and then you
die.
Am I even really alive? Is this all in my head? I want to cross country the US, be everywhere.
04:26
after brutal editing.
Numb, Numb and hungry but wont feed the mouth because My point hasnt been made correctly and the meaning of life is still a mystery to me. However, the meaning of sleep is very very clear and crystal. SMASH.
Mat?
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Sometime I
My dad owns a very interesting story. Im not sure what this means because I only obtain shuttered information. I see Ive been mentioning him a lot. I dont know why, really. I guess its a syndrome, we all have those complications in the filters of our thoughts. I told him to write a book about it and he said that sometime he will. I pushed him , objecting the phrase 'sometime I will', why not now? He replied that no one would want to read it and I told him that he shouldn't give a fuck whether or not people are reading his story. I explained to him that the writing experience is for the writer alone, no body really reads the book you are writing like you are putting it, like you and yourself are reading it. In the literal way, the readers do read it, but you are always fixed on you mind ,thats the only mind and soul you know and got, and thus you will be the only one experiencing the enlightenment of your own goods. He understood .
Monday, August 1, 2011
Depression Night Live
IM SORRY I PROMISED A POST TO GHOSTS THAT DONT EVEN READ MY BLOG>
IT WAS AMUSING AT THE TIME< STILL IS> IM KIND OF DEPRESSED> WISH TO SLEEP IT ALL AWAY< OR AT LEAST TO NEVER EVEN WAKE UP>
IT WAS AMUSING AT THE TIME< STILL IS> IM KIND OF DEPRESSED> WISH TO SLEEP IT ALL AWAY< OR AT LEAST TO NEVER EVEN WAKE UP>
German Hotel
Twist twist? Nobody
Yeah , yeah, I know , no body is reading my crap yeah yeah. shut up. I've been to the Austria trip I mentioned a while ago. Been checking the stats, the ghosts that used to secretly dig my statements have moved out to the next blog, I know, I deserve this. I do.
ok, I'm done with the narcissistic pity parade. Back to business.
Zalsburg Austria+ Munich , Germany. Oh, the cold, warming up my Summer Heart, it was so nice to feel the wind again. It was so nice to feel period. Its like the fall romancing was in my head and I was completely isolated from the real world, in a good way, indeed. We hopped from one forest to the next, chasing hiking opportunities with fierce joy and tumbling down next to the smell of nature that clanged to Lori ( since my dad purchased a GPS back in 2008, and the voice was of a one called Lori, every GPS we encounter is being referred to as LORI. ). The swirl of winter filled our lungs with new adventure as we launched for the mountains, we even got a sweet tan in the snow.
Perhaps I should mention that we have gone Canyoning as well? Perhaps I should brag about how brave I was to jump into the 10 degrees freezing waters from cliffs and rocks, I was indulging in such an extreme activity I should get a medal for just putting on the diving suit ? Perhaps the silence would suit me better.
Anyways, I know this isnt much of an interesting case for anyone who is reading this but I'm doing my best to keep myself on track. Writing plain words isn't enough for me thus I try to make my style of writing more and more interesting to read and so, I'm usually processing my creativity too much and my ideas get stuck in the stream sometimes. Mustn't worry! tonight you will get to swallow another one of my posts. 2 in one day? wow! this guy must be crazy good. AND I AM. I mean. k, I think. well Ill try.
Maybe Ill tell you about the beautiful Alex?
or maybe Ill tell you about those smurfs from my last post?
Maybe.
The original Lori was stolen in Montreal while my dad parked for a rehearsal , the crims (cool shortcut?) broke the window and thus Dad had to drive home in the freezing Canadian winter with a broken window unaccompanied by the lovely Lori. RIP Lori the great GPS.
Mat
Ps.
here is to cherish the sites of Munich's most known pub, oh they know how to chunk down a beer a'right. CHEERS.
Yeah , yeah, I know , no body is reading my crap yeah yeah. shut up. I've been to the Austria trip I mentioned a while ago. Been checking the stats, the ghosts that used to secretly dig my statements have moved out to the next blog, I know, I deserve this. I do.
ok, I'm done with the narcissistic pity parade. Back to business.
Zalsburg Austria+ Munich , Germany. Oh, the cold, warming up my Summer Heart, it was so nice to feel the wind again. It was so nice to feel period. Its like the fall romancing was in my head and I was completely isolated from the real world, in a good way, indeed. We hopped from one forest to the next, chasing hiking opportunities with fierce joy and tumbling down next to the smell of nature that clanged to Lori ( since my dad purchased a GPS back in 2008, and the voice was of a one called Lori, every GPS we encounter is being referred to as LORI. ). The swirl of winter filled our lungs with new adventure as we launched for the mountains, we even got a sweet tan in the snow.
Perhaps I should mention that we have gone Canyoning as well? Perhaps I should brag about how brave I was to jump into the 10 degrees freezing waters from cliffs and rocks, I was indulging in such an extreme activity I should get a medal for just putting on the diving suit ? Perhaps the silence would suit me better.
Anyways, I know this isnt much of an interesting case for anyone who is reading this but I'm doing my best to keep myself on track. Writing plain words isn't enough for me thus I try to make my style of writing more and more interesting to read and so, I'm usually processing my creativity too much and my ideas get stuck in the stream sometimes. Mustn't worry! tonight you will get to swallow another one of my posts. 2 in one day? wow! this guy must be crazy good. AND I AM. I mean. k, I think. well Ill try.
Maybe Ill tell you about the beautiful Alex?
or maybe Ill tell you about those smurfs from my last post?
Maybe.
The original Lori was stolen in Montreal while my dad parked for a rehearsal , the crims (cool shortcut?) broke the window and thus Dad had to drive home in the freezing Canadian winter with a broken window unaccompanied by the lovely Lori. RIP Lori the great GPS.
Mat
Ps.
here is to cherish the sites of Munich's most known pub, oh they know how to chunk down a beer a'right. CHEERS.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Preface: probability
They are here, its unbelievable we are grasping the same land. Ive never thought I'd see those kids here, not for a while at least. Now its my field, my knowledge , MY GAME.
why am I losing then? Why am I freaking out? Am I going to see any of them?
I'll write about this later, as for now, expect to get a glance of me Downtown a few times...
Fire is jolting through me, perhaps today's run was too much for me. Dizzy. pinching in my chest reminds me I still have got them emotions, damn.
Night,
feathers.
EDIT: I feel better now, thank you.
why am I losing then? Why am I freaking out? Am I going to see any of them?
I'll write about this later, as for now, expect to get a glance of me Downtown a few times...
Night,
feathers.
EDIT: I feel better now, thank you.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Run fat boy Run!!!
I got up from my bed after a long chat with a mate-- classmate(dont want to give you the wrong impression of me having close friends or something) (not that Im demanding to prove that I'm messed up and want your pity, no, Im way past that attitude, I dont need to look for something to feel sorry for myself, its stupid blahhhhh). She left my house and I hurried out behind her wearing my train' shorts and my big ugly Saucony shoes. Tip toeing all the way to the back of a silver car, I settled in a big breath of freshness before I took off into the wind of my own jog , onto the first of my 3 laps. Perhaps, the air that gashed like rocking beverage in a glass around in my lungs was not 100% percent oxygen. It doesn't feel natural. I came to that thought a while back, I mean, breathing is almost unbearably hard while running and maybe, just maybe, when I run a wave of synthetic oxygen is rushed into my lungs which makes my side ache.
When I run, I try to feel that cheesy moment every movie is blabbing about, how it makes the star think and you know, you sure know, that 'run' that makes everything clear and crystal. Yesterday. I tried to see how my sorrow was being converted into one of those striking moments but I'm pretty sure all that got converted were some body fat. Which could never harm, right?
To be frank (1) , yesterdays run was for exercise purposes only, but while running the first lap I was thinking about how I should be feeling and the times where I went running because I was furious with life and people. this is where 'to be frank (2) ' comes up, to the movie- tricking -people -system's defense, running does help me clear my head and come back home drained of "ziftogenes" (my dad's word for anger genes, yes he's quite something). And yesterday , yesterday made me feel proud because I never do sports, and to be frank (3) I want to be fit as a bee sting for my upcoming trip to Austria and Germany in two weeks, is that too much for a boy to ask? In the making of this exercising 2 kg have fallen off my shape of shapes. pumphh.
the chain of events is quite confusing but here is, like, a glimpse of what happened later that night: I got home. checked my tomato- i mean , my face in the mirror, smiled at the site of fresh sweat , hopped in the shower, I guess I had a shower and got something on while still stinging with wet drops of freshness. Blow dried my personality with witty thoughts and plunged my feet with a pair of black leather lace up boots . I went out and walked slowly. I had a bag in my hands, an orange grocery bag my mom got, occupied by a blue toothbrush a sweater and a book Ive been reading (anybody heard of the 'someone to run with?' book, wow no kidding Im so obsessed with running lately?!/.) . I dont like the two people Im supposedly attached to socially, they are not my friends and I hate being with them but that night I thought I'd better get social with the kids, there were some new ones in the shut library area. For an hour or so the socializing was bearable, I had a nice chat with a girl and well that was that. Swirl of drums. smoking my own thoughts.
I had a nightmare about lice looking like nuts and those cutie-seeds you put in your salad , like flower seeds, it was unbearable I totally freaked out. I swear. This is how messed up my mind is.
Mat.
p.s
this is kind of beautiful- I thought of it myself:
"scanned and perfumed from her own diaries."
When I run, I try to feel that cheesy moment every movie is blabbing about, how it makes the star think and you know, you sure know, that 'run' that makes everything clear and crystal. Yesterday. I tried to see how my sorrow was being converted into one of those striking moments but I'm pretty sure all that got converted were some body fat. Which could never harm, right?
To be frank (1) , yesterdays run was for exercise purposes only, but while running the first lap I was thinking about how I should be feeling and the times where I went running because I was furious with life and people. this is where 'to be frank (2) ' comes up, to the movie- tricking -people -system's defense, running does help me clear my head and come back home drained of "ziftogenes" (my dad's word for anger genes, yes he's quite something). And yesterday , yesterday made me feel proud because I never do sports, and to be frank (3) I want to be fit as a bee sting for my upcoming trip to Austria and Germany in two weeks, is that too much for a boy to ask? In the making of this exercising 2 kg have fallen off my shape of shapes. pumphh.
the chain of events is quite confusing but here is, like, a glimpse of what happened later that night: I got home. checked my tomato- i mean , my face in the mirror, smiled at the site of fresh sweat , hopped in the shower, I guess I had a shower and got something on while still stinging with wet drops of freshness. Blow dried my personality with witty thoughts and plunged my feet with a pair of black leather lace up boots . I went out and walked slowly. I had a bag in my hands, an orange grocery bag my mom got, occupied by a blue toothbrush a sweater and a book Ive been reading (anybody heard of the 'someone to run with?' book, wow no kidding Im so obsessed with running lately?!/.) . I dont like the two people Im supposedly attached to socially, they are not my friends and I hate being with them but that night I thought I'd better get social with the kids, there were some new ones in the shut library area. For an hour or so the socializing was bearable, I had a nice chat with a girl and well that was that. Swirl of drums. smoking my own thoughts.
I had a nightmare about lice looking like nuts and those cutie-seeds you put in your salad , like flower seeds, it was unbearable I totally freaked out. I swear. This is how messed up my mind is.
Mat.
p.s
this is kind of beautiful- I thought of it myself:
"scanned and perfumed from her own diaries."
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Summer Adventure
I want to sit at the bus on my special tacky seat, the one which is on the right. When you enter the line 26 bus right at the stop of the grocery shop 2 blocks away from my humble home, walk straight ahead a couple of rows until you fix your eyes on the 3ird row counting from the back of the bus (of course) .
You will find 4 seats facing each other, it is only legitimate you craved the one I refer to as 'my seat' because the 2 chairs facing the wrong way will simply give you a headache, and it would only be fair to grant the other passenger the seat next to the window. Now, you see, my seat is the one left , can you draw the picture of it all in your head? The chain of events? Me paying the driver 3$ for a day pass, his harsh eyes studying my money with suspicious glares as he finally prints out a receipt and the buzzing sound assures me I can hop hop to my perfectly good seat where I settle down casually and place my legs on the opposite seat, the one facing the wrong way, making myself right at home!
Now its late and the buses have gone to bed, their wives are probably snoring to the dream of a bigger house, with a pool and some nice oil plates and gasoline. ZZZs. There's no way in hell I'm getting out of this town tonight. No way.
I wish , I wish that bus would take me to a summer adventure , to those summers you only read about in books. I want the rush of excitement in my spine and the swirl of city air in my lungs. I wish for my troubled mind to rest upon a different story, a vivid one. Oh summer , what will you bring upon me this time?Sea of options and so little time to act , I'm in a coma, good damn it, I cant seem to get up and LIVE. Oh god, what if I cant? What If? So much for being a loner by choice (or is it really by choice?).
If. If there is someone out there in Australia , In Russia, In the Uk, anywhere, anybody, who is swallowing my bits of words and my scrambled paper cut thoughts , show a sign of survival, show a sign of existence, please! I think I'm vanishing from the earth and there might be someone there capable of holding my feet on the ground (Im not reffering to suicide, please no!) Im drifting, again ,to my own universe.
If you are there, contact me, email me. Maybe your summer adventure is about to hit the wild side.
loose some weight when you are at it. Kid-in'.
Mathew
RawPowerr@gmail.com
You will find 4 seats facing each other, it is only legitimate you craved the one I refer to as 'my seat' because the 2 chairs facing the wrong way will simply give you a headache, and it would only be fair to grant the other passenger the seat next to the window. Now, you see, my seat is the one left , can you draw the picture of it all in your head? The chain of events? Me paying the driver 3$ for a day pass, his harsh eyes studying my money with suspicious glares as he finally prints out a receipt and the buzzing sound assures me I can hop hop to my perfectly good seat where I settle down casually and place my legs on the opposite seat, the one facing the wrong way, making myself right at home!
Now its late and the buses have gone to bed, their wives are probably snoring to the dream of a bigger house, with a pool and some nice oil plates and gasoline. ZZZs. There's no way in hell I'm getting out of this town tonight. No way.
I wish , I wish that bus would take me to a summer adventure , to those summers you only read about in books. I want the rush of excitement in my spine and the swirl of city air in my lungs. I wish for my troubled mind to rest upon a different story, a vivid one. Oh summer , what will you bring upon me this time?Sea of options and so little time to act , I'm in a coma, good damn it, I cant seem to get up and LIVE. Oh god, what if I cant? What If? So much for being a loner by choice (or is it really by choice?).
If. If there is someone out there in Australia , In Russia, In the Uk, anywhere, anybody, who is swallowing my bits of words and my scrambled paper cut thoughts , show a sign of survival, show a sign of existence, please! I think I'm vanishing from the earth and there might be someone there capable of holding my feet on the ground (Im not reffering to suicide, please no!) Im drifting, again ,to my own universe.
If you are there, contact me, email me. Maybe your summer adventure is about to hit the wild side.
loose some weight when you are at it. Kid-in'.
Mathew
RawPowerr@gmail.com
Thursday, July 7, 2011
eye
I hate oversleeping.
I hate noon resting.
I hate eating chicken, especially wings.
I hate loving people that live far away.
I hate looking at my room in the mornings.
I love trains.
I have my own spot on the bus where I always sit. I like my seat.
I hate ice cream.
I love sushi.
I like wearing a sweatshirt.
I love zombie posing in front of a good movie or a funny episode of 'Parks and Recreation'
I hate the songs on MTV nowadays.
I hate when girls wear the 'duck legs' shaped UGG's. They say a lot about who's wearing them.
I hate driving in my parents car when they fight about my grandpa's will.(ttt)
I love the smell of steamed rice and fresh pasta.
I'd like to cook for a vegan.
I like the tingles and the worm rush within that I get when I pass by a set of drums in the music store downtown.
I hate being bitch slapped.
I hate spilling my drink on the table, but secretly love it when it pisses people off.
I like the crunch of corn flakes in the morning.
I liked it when there were snow days and PED days to sweeten my day.
I hate killing ants.
I love a good cheeseburger.
I love doing the smart mouth.
I hate her.
I love her.
I.
I?
why am I in the center? in some way , I will always be, because this is the only center my brain recognizes.
I hate noon resting.
I hate eating chicken, especially wings.
I hate loving people that live far away.
I hate looking at my room in the mornings.
I love trains.
I have my own spot on the bus where I always sit. I like my seat.
I hate ice cream.
I love sushi.
I like wearing a sweatshirt.
I love zombie posing in front of a good movie or a funny episode of 'Parks and Recreation'
I hate the songs on MTV nowadays.
I hate when girls wear the 'duck legs' shaped UGG's. They say a lot about who's wearing them.
I hate driving in my parents car when they fight about my grandpa's will.(ttt)
I love the smell of steamed rice and fresh pasta.
I'd like to cook for a vegan.
I like the tingles and the worm rush within that I get when I pass by a set of drums in the music store downtown.
I hate being bitch slapped.
I hate spilling my drink on the table, but secretly love it when it pisses people off.
I like the crunch of corn flakes in the morning.
I liked it when there were snow days and PED days to sweeten my day.
I hate killing ants.
I love a good cheeseburger.
I love doing the smart mouth.
I hate her.
I love her.
I.
I?
why am I in the center? in some way , I will always be, because this is the only center my brain recognizes.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
SUMMER conversation and sight
Bonjour ,
I am.
Alive.
In some metaphorical way.
I have been out of town for 10 days. 10days, out in the nature, without a bed , without them folks. Without my melodramatic music playlist, without the couch and my big black boots.
I've been stirring in the air of smoke and anxiety, unknown vibes swirling like semen out there in the woods. Feelings Ive pushed away or haven't even felt before gushed over my chest with sinew.
sinew.
I had no sinew, no power source. Nada.
I had to re-convince myself to live, to rebuild myself and to exhale for a while.
This is when I got my new perspective, Ive started to notice everything, every little twitch, every little change or consistency of setting. Its amazing what you catch when you start seeing. its like I came to the real world again, its not "like", you stupid half american boy, it is just that. A sign on the truck, expressions, body language, the skin of a newborn, her name, her name.
Ive met a friend who met a friend whom she had a conversation with, while conditioning he spoke and didnt listen. He talked chauvinism and she clutched her teeth with disgust. He was self concentrated and immature, no wonder his mind cant process the thought of caring, listening and putting an effort into getting the sexual experience he craved in a smart and respectful way. Id never talk about a girl like she's my game and im the 'I-have-to-go-with-dirty-details-to-ma-pips-about-the-size-of-your-breasts' hunter. Never , I promised her. And summer clanged to her hair.
I am.
Alive.
In some metaphorical way.
I have been out of town for 10 days. 10days, out in the nature, without a bed , without them folks. Without my melodramatic music playlist, without the couch and my big black boots.
I've been stirring in the air of smoke and anxiety, unknown vibes swirling like semen out there in the woods. Feelings Ive pushed away or haven't even felt before gushed over my chest with sinew.
sinew.
I had no sinew, no power source. Nada.
I had to re-convince myself to live, to rebuild myself and to exhale for a while.
This is when I got my new perspective, Ive started to notice everything, every little twitch, every little change or consistency of setting. Its amazing what you catch when you start seeing. its like I came to the real world again, its not "like", you stupid half american boy, it is just that. A sign on the truck, expressions, body language, the skin of a newborn, her name, her name.
Ive met a friend who met a friend whom she had a conversation with, while conditioning he spoke and didnt listen. He talked chauvinism and she clutched her teeth with disgust. He was self concentrated and immature, no wonder his mind cant process the thought of caring, listening and putting an effort into getting the sexual experience he craved in a smart and respectful way. Id never talk about a girl like she's my game and im the 'I-have-to-go-with-dirty-details-to-ma-pips-about-the-size-of-your-breasts' hunter. Never , I promised her. And summer clanged to her hair.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
scolionophobia- just found it while browsin' dictionary.com. look it up.I swear.
School is out indeed but it is only oficialy over on Monday , the day we all get our bloodcurdling flesh slashing and spine-chilling REPORT CARDS.i know the usage and the connotation of these spooky adjectives are pretty much out of place considering the fact Im only in the 9th grade and I have 5 more of those candies to go before I graduate (excluding the final bloodcurdling flesh slashing and spine-chilling REPORT CARD that gets me into the best University it could buy). Other than that, my grades are pretty good this half, I DID NOT FAIL MATH.
This is actually my last year in middle school but I have to say it was in fact the most flaky and idiotic period of my school life. Out of plain apathy and tardiness I have shut down my decision making system, I've totally ignored any choice that needed badly to be established and made- 'Why would I go checking out schools that I didnt necessarily need to go to if it was obvious I continued my goody-goody education in the hole I first got it' kind of things. hence, I'll be finding my lazy ass studying up until my senior year in the same loony bin school only in a different building. That's not the only change 10th Grade is shoving upon me, but you know, considering the truth that the education system in different places in the world is not much alike , the chances any of my systematic bullshiz about the system will make sense to you 'kewl kidz' are unsurprisingly vague and slight.
BUT
I think I need to say something about high school and school in general. Especially for those who forgot how it feels. so to warm up the finger vocals Im going to share with you my Survival Technic for school as cool as school that you could rule. (getting caught up in the rhyming thing should be found on the 'Being socially active in high school' handbook in the donts column.):
a. Make sure your math teacher likes you. If she doesn't and you are not Einstein's twin, make sure you sit in the back of the class next to someone who is louder than you and well, lets phrase it this way- is not as brain skilled as you are, Ninja kid.
b. Never talk back to an angry pimp in the holloway , even if its necessairy and you have a great point, he is just going to get humiliated and chase you around school like a hunter. If he happens to be indulging in a soccer game with your head, please be warned in advance, you are not responsible for his lost soccer ball but you will have to face the bruising consequences.
c. Biology teachers who say insulin is secreted from the brain are never to be trusted. In fact, dont bother correcting them either , the last kiddo who did that got marked like the guy from the bible.
d. Failing a third language is ok. Go easy on yourself. Bonne Noel!
e.When you rather doodle in class, (Im sorry if this statement has dishonored and offended the Aliens, i know you hate doodling and you rather eat the gum that is snagged and stuck under the table instead.) spare as much table space as you can get , divide the desk if you may,( into 300 cubes) for every physics class you ever have to go through.
d. Child Support on speed dial is always useful and practical.
e. Actually remember what goes after e in the abc. Note: previous statements.
f. When a friend forgets their Methylphenidate and there's nothing else to do just remember the line "Let it be" for two reasons, he/ she are becoming an 'it' and well, because it reminds me of "if you love something l/set it free". (dont get me wrong Methylphenidate has done wonders for 65 kids I know, we are 120 in my grade. I happen to be very calm and quiet.)You are going to have a blast.
g. You can cut Gym class with detention chaining down your lunch, but you can never pretend you have you period in order to stay on the bench. Smart girls. Damn it.
h. You have the permission to skip the first period of every Monday and Wednesday , look how wise I turned out and Ive never attended either one of them.
i. Get friendly with the school's guard or just be punk, he is scared to death by the punks so they come and go as they please.
j. You should probably stay away from the cafeteria in April.
k. there's no such thing as being yourself, if you stick to this advice you'll end up naked on a couch with The Office on , farting to the sound of potato chips heavenly crashed in your mouth. I mean seriously, guys, we are shaped by so many social norms- its so hard to dig into our tiny little souls and unleash our true nature- our complete 'being yourself' pose mode button is located behind your teeth, you have to puke in order to turn it on, your call.
Cutting to the very own soul of my argument:
School , especially public schools, are for you to get educated and for me to whine about. I dont think teachers are doing it wrong, I dont think students are the only variable in the education equation. Good education relies on both teachers and students - their backgrounds, the respect they share for each other and the importance and the relevance of the subject being taught from both perspectives. Of course the aura has to be just right as well.
I know that teachers like to mark 'black sheep' in the crowd of students and this is the reason many students have a hard time getting out of their "class clown" or 'whatever it is thats holding them back' stigma, but if you usually crave that much attention that you are willing to give up your tact in order to get it then I'm assuming you deserve the discrimination until you understand you can learn if you just opened a book and stopped trying to steal the center of attention.
Let me phrase it a different way, the education is out there but no one is going to chase after you and fully confirm you are using all the tools you are given by the system. You are forced by law to finish at least 9 years of education , no one is going to rescue you from your own mistakes if you dont take your education in your own teenaged hands. Do what you want and do what you can but dont complain that the system has given up on you with disrespect if you are giving them the class clown syndrome in full volume. If you find yourself in this situation it means your motives are questionable and probably unknown so you cant blame anyone for the black forehead mark you are getting by your teachers.
It isnt really disrespectful when you are the one responsible for how the system treats you and Im not talking about all black marked students,Im talking about how your actions reflect back to you when you have something to do with it- again if you are just waiting for the teacher to fight for your own learning, then you are living in a very complex fairytail my dear fellow. Some teachers will make an effort but most dont have the time to dedicate to your personal education if you dont beat them to it, first. Its true teachers need to make more effort to spot those sheep and free them of their chains but also the students have to be willing to change and open up to this thing called LEARNING. There has to be a speck in the middle.
Again,Im not speaking of the times where students are discriminated for no fair reason and teachers treat them disrespectfully because it's personal- if this is the case then you shall stand up and fight for your rights!
When it boils down to respect , the best thing you can do to spare you the fall is to be smart. Use your words to your defense and not to play against you. If you don't really feel like studying, its your choice, whatever makes you sleep at night.
I think it only made sense in my head.
Mat.
P.S
This was written late at night, please excuse any grammar mistakes, the tenses tend to get kind of tense when its late.
WHAT AM I GONNA DO ITS SUMMER?!?!?!?!
Thursday, June 9, 2011
steroids to heaven and other school methaphors
hello
I think its my 2nd post this month and Im very happy with my accomplishment (let me just pop open a sleazy silk bottle of champagne and celebrate the glorious achievement, mind you!) and you know , Im thinking about how not to bore you with my life while still getting rid of the things that are naturally bothering me.
Pretend I did not sound like such a wuss for a moment. I'll start over.
Its the end of the year now. Hardly any school, the smell of summer kills my nose with a bittersweet sensation. The end is always the biggest sensation because you are on the verge of loosing the routine while still in it like , say, you are listening to a mix and most of the songs are not your cup of tea and instead of focusing on listening you are looking forward to the next songs until you get caught up in a routine- in the songs and when you get to the last songs and things get less and less organized your listening is interrupted, the record starts skipping and you know the end is near. You have expectations from the next mix and you dont know what to expect. Does this make any sense? I waited and waited for something to happen all year. In the beginning of the year I thought that by winter I'd have the year all figured out , friends wise, life wise. Winter has ended a while ago, I've turned 15 and nothing changed the way I thought it would. No girl, no life, no fun, no friends I like. I'm not a snob boy, nor am I a total desperate human being so I take it easy with life and let the aliens do their magic. The only thing that did change is my perspective, my world view , Im more independent, more cynical in public, less social Im afraid.
People say that nothing is going to happen to you if you dont step up and get out of your box. I dont know how screenwriters in Freaks and Geeks for example, managed to make a teens life so fucking special and interesting, how I'd love to be Nick or something. There is nothing in the world I can do by myself. I admit this for the first time in a long long time, I NEED COMPANY. So, there is this little fact that you should know about me and it's that I have Anxiety attacks every time I step out of my comfort zone so in the past year Ive avoided anything that gave me the anxiety vibes. Out of pure depression and black-ness Ive pushed everyone away and when I look back at what Ive done, socially, I dont regret a single thing. Im happy I broke friendships that didnt matter Im happy Im now mentally ready to get back on the horse and try a new and exiting life as the independent me-- the intelligent me(in comparison to the old self of course) - the 90's me(fell in love with the vibe) . Im ready to just live and have fun for a change.
This morning I was really depressed to be honest, this post was written two days ago when I was more or less enthusiastic, now Im better but Im not feeling too well either. I really wanted to get out of the house and take a bus and a train downtown but I couldnt pull the strength to do it on my own,I wanted to go by the book store and the comics shop and the theater and have a little fun but the depression monster flashed a pair of bloody wild claws and demanded my gloomy body , trapped, I froze on the couch in front of a documentary about steroids (which was quite interesting considering the fact I think they are bullshit).
So, Im going to let go of this post now and address a question to all of you folks out there:
Are you in my situation ? What do you think is the best way to step out of the box? What do you feel about the end of the school year?
stay hydrated.
Mat-
p.s- steroids to heaven- you get it? zeppelings song- stairway to heaven?
I think its my 2nd post this month and Im very happy with my accomplishment (let me just pop open a sleazy silk bottle of champagne and celebrate the glorious achievement, mind you!) and you know , Im thinking about how not to bore you with my life while still getting rid of the things that are naturally bothering me.
Pretend I did not sound like such a wuss for a moment. I'll start over.
Its the end of the year now. Hardly any school, the smell of summer kills my nose with a bittersweet sensation. The end is always the biggest sensation because you are on the verge of loosing the routine while still in it like , say, you are listening to a mix and most of the songs are not your cup of tea and instead of focusing on listening you are looking forward to the next songs until you get caught up in a routine- in the songs and when you get to the last songs and things get less and less organized your listening is interrupted, the record starts skipping and you know the end is near. You have expectations from the next mix and you dont know what to expect. Does this make any sense? I waited and waited for something to happen all year. In the beginning of the year I thought that by winter I'd have the year all figured out , friends wise, life wise. Winter has ended a while ago, I've turned 15 and nothing changed the way I thought it would. No girl, no life, no fun, no friends I like. I'm not a snob boy, nor am I a total desperate human being so I take it easy with life and let the aliens do their magic. The only thing that did change is my perspective, my world view , Im more independent, more cynical in public, less social Im afraid.
People say that nothing is going to happen to you if you dont step up and get out of your box. I dont know how screenwriters in Freaks and Geeks for example, managed to make a teens life so fucking special and interesting, how I'd love to be Nick or something. There is nothing in the world I can do by myself. I admit this for the first time in a long long time, I NEED COMPANY. So, there is this little fact that you should know about me and it's that I have Anxiety attacks every time I step out of my comfort zone so in the past year Ive avoided anything that gave me the anxiety vibes. Out of pure depression and black-ness Ive pushed everyone away and when I look back at what Ive done, socially, I dont regret a single thing. Im happy I broke friendships that didnt matter Im happy Im now mentally ready to get back on the horse and try a new and exiting life as the independent me-- the intelligent me(in comparison to the old self of course) - the 90's me(fell in love with the vibe) . Im ready to just live and have fun for a change.
This morning I was really depressed to be honest, this post was written two days ago when I was more or less enthusiastic, now Im better but Im not feeling too well either. I really wanted to get out of the house and take a bus and a train downtown but I couldnt pull the strength to do it on my own,I wanted to go by the book store and the comics shop and the theater and have a little fun but the depression monster flashed a pair of bloody wild claws and demanded my gloomy body , trapped, I froze on the couch in front of a documentary about steroids (which was quite interesting considering the fact I think they are bullshit).
So, Im going to let go of this post now and address a question to all of you folks out there:
Are you in my situation ? What do you think is the best way to step out of the box? What do you feel about the end of the school year?
stay hydrated.
Mat-
p.s- steroids to heaven- you get it? zeppelings song- stairway to heaven?
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
would you fancy some bullshit next to your coffee, sir?
Hello,
My name is Mathew , I'm 15 and currently a single, lifeless and an unemployed piece of human ball. Ive been around blogs for a while and it struck me that no guy my age has a blog. Well, maybe there are some boys writing their butts off somewhere in the world but either they are too ashamed to let the world know they are, or the name of their blog does not shine, saying " I'm a gold digger", enough for me to double click their link on Google. Yes, I Googled.
Hence, it is time for Mat to take out the electronic clear keyboard (lies) and write about his life. BLAH.
Done with third person(more LIES).
Is it just me or is it getting hot by the minute? It's the second day of June and I'm resting in a couch potato pose (it would be pretty stupid of me to mention that im on the couch ,hence the special adjusted pose?) . I am wearing a navy blue old sweatshirt, it's part of my school uniform so it is comfy as navy blue sweatshirt could be! Everything outside looks like its melting, the roses are screaming with horrified eyes, the grass is begging for forgiveness and the sun just smirks with delight and I, I am inside making a face to the sun teasing its UV rays with my sweatshirt. As we engage in a fierce staring contest , I know for a fact that I cant beat the sun and its stupid uneducated little UV Rays children and that I'll have to say goodbye to my favorite sweatshirt very soon, indeed. Here you go, fact number one about me, I hate the summer here in ------.
You know how people don't want to give out their location because they are afraid of stockers and pedophiles? Well, I have a whole different reason to keep anyone who's reading this from mastering my whereabouts and it happens to be the fact that the place I come from holds a bad reputation for many political, social and economical reasons and I don't want any of this to affect my style of writing just yet , I think I'll reveal everything about me at some point, but now, when I'm just building up the courage to write my dumb "shit" here, I think I want to keep somethings to myself after all. Its only palatable.
***
5087327186 days later
I think, For some odd reason that the subconscious of your mind is very very very ill when all you think about is how you manage to pull the strength to actually think. To actually function. After months in the depression closet I think its time I recover from the big subconscious -nal car accident or something like that. you know, I was used to being the little detail in my own life, the small embellishment, I was really used to being the subordinate element in my own pitiful life. I stopped for a minute. I grabbed my stupid head with my clumsy chunky blobs of hands (I like how it doesnt make sense when Im writing stuff at 1 am..) and I hated what Ive done. I hated the fact Im such a loser and a poser and a depressed fuck head . And you, you who came to enjoy your cup of whole grained coffee or some other bullshit while reading me , now you head over to the escape button because this reminds you oh too clearly of your own life , so I say. What do I say? I say we screw depression lets get rid of the complaints and shut up. We find a gal , we find a friend , we read a book, we quit checking our indie pose just for a quick look to see if we aren't trying hard enough to fool ourselves in the process. And we try, we try our best not to forget to experience as much as we can in this short pathetic life. And who knows? I might be gone tomorrow. Or like in 2 minutes because I trip over the charger get hit by the metal part of the sofas leg , hit my head really hard, bleed, get up to get some ice and a towel , I run into a green dotted snake ad then it bites my ear off and I start running with pain and then I get run\ran (brain aint functioning) over by a drunk teenage boy such as myself and die.
Night folks. No I have no Point in anything I ever say but stick with me or something because Im vital and crucial and very very much alive. I think, but I see a snake. No, wait, its my toe.
ML
My name is Mathew , I'm 15 and currently a single, lifeless and an unemployed piece of human ball. Ive been around blogs for a while and it struck me that no guy my age has a blog. Well, maybe there are some boys writing their butts off somewhere in the world but either they are too ashamed to let the world know they are, or the name of their blog does not shine, saying " I'm a gold digger", enough for me to double click their link on Google. Yes, I Googled.
Hence, it is time for Mat to take out the electronic clear keyboard (lies) and write about his life. BLAH.
Done with third person(more LIES).
Is it just me or is it getting hot by the minute? It's the second day of June and I'm resting in a couch potato pose (it would be pretty stupid of me to mention that im on the couch ,hence the special adjusted pose?) . I am wearing a navy blue old sweatshirt, it's part of my school uniform so it is comfy as navy blue sweatshirt could be! Everything outside looks like its melting, the roses are screaming with horrified eyes, the grass is begging for forgiveness and the sun just smirks with delight and I, I am inside making a face to the sun teasing its UV rays with my sweatshirt. As we engage in a fierce staring contest , I know for a fact that I cant beat the sun and its stupid uneducated little UV Rays children and that I'll have to say goodbye to my favorite sweatshirt very soon, indeed. Here you go, fact number one about me, I hate the summer here in ------.
You know how people don't want to give out their location because they are afraid of stockers and pedophiles? Well, I have a whole different reason to keep anyone who's reading this from mastering my whereabouts and it happens to be the fact that the place I come from holds a bad reputation for many political, social and economical reasons and I don't want any of this to affect my style of writing just yet , I think I'll reveal everything about me at some point, but now, when I'm just building up the courage to write my dumb "shit" here, I think I want to keep somethings to myself after all. Its only palatable.
***
5087327186 days later
I think, For some odd reason that the subconscious of your mind is very very very ill when all you think about is how you manage to pull the strength to actually think. To actually function. After months in the depression closet I think its time I recover from the big subconscious -nal car accident or something like that. you know, I was used to being the little detail in my own life, the small embellishment, I was really used to being the subordinate element in my own pitiful life. I stopped for a minute. I grabbed my stupid head with my clumsy chunky blobs of hands (I like how it doesnt make sense when Im writing stuff at 1 am..) and I hated what Ive done. I hated the fact Im such a loser and a poser and a depressed fuck head . And you, you who came to enjoy your cup of whole grained coffee or some other bullshit while reading me , now you head over to the escape button because this reminds you oh too clearly of your own life , so I say. What do I say? I say we screw depression lets get rid of the complaints and shut up. We find a gal , we find a friend , we read a book, we quit checking our indie pose just for a quick look to see if we aren't trying hard enough to fool ourselves in the process. And we try, we try our best not to forget to experience as much as we can in this short pathetic life. And who knows? I might be gone tomorrow. Or like in 2 minutes because I trip over the charger get hit by the metal part of the sofas leg , hit my head really hard, bleed, get up to get some ice and a towel , I run into a green dotted snake ad then it bites my ear off and I start running with pain and then I get run\ran (brain aint functioning) over by a drunk teenage boy such as myself and die.
Night folks. No I have no Point in anything I ever say but stick with me or something because Im vital and crucial and very very much alive. I think, but I see a snake. No, wait, its my toe.
ML
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Dad will guide me up a rope.
Tuesday , my darlings, Im going to be at a concert.
Not the kind of huge concerts Lady Gaga has , of course not.
Im- Going- To- See- THE SWANS, live,in a small bar!
I brought home a flyer and my dad was also psyched about it and it was only fair to take my Father along- yes, ironically their new album is called: "My father will guide me up a rope to the sky". He bought the tickets, such a beautiful gesture, it was just like he had given me a rope too.
Sorry for any unnecessary grammar mistakes,
Its morning.
Not the kind of huge concerts Lady Gaga has , of course not.
Im- Going- To- See- THE SWANS, live,in a small bar!
I brought home a flyer and my dad was also psyched about it and it was only fair to take my Father along- yes, ironically their new album is called: "My father will guide me up a rope to the sky". He bought the tickets, such a beautiful gesture, it was just like he had given me a rope too.
Sorry for any unnecessary grammar mistakes,
Its morning.
Friday, April 8, 2011
The art of NOT caring.
Hello,
I decided I needed to keep on writing because I may be in a very cruel situation and in order to maintain my sanity I need to do something. I guess that something is writing this post.
Let me tell you about yesterday. Let me tell you about the most dumb ideas I had running through my baked head yesterday. If you were to see me for the first time yesterday, your first impression of me would have been something like this : "wow this boy gets anxiety attacks over a bunch of crap, he is a total freak, his decision making system is managed by snow white's little midgets collaborating with Barnie." In times like this I swear, I would agree with you, I would add a 'shorty' to my middle name and live in a Hippie cage in the mountains (yes, I'm afraid I just smashed every aspect of todays teens and what not into one little sentence). For those who missed my outstanding performance yesterday and never got to draw their first impression of me, I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt for just a few moments as I quiz you. What do you think I did yesterday?
a. Had to write 3 pages of rubbish for a literature test.
b. wrote pros and cons so I could make a good decision ending up writing :" depression" three times on both sides.
c. Named my father's finger Daria Fingg
d. cancelled a 4 day trip after getting into a massivve panic attack , I developed a 'packing' trauma a while ago that poped out of nowhere yesterday.
c. I ate frozen pees because the microwave didn't heat them properly and thus I gave up after 15 minutes - this my friends, is not yummy.
d.Cuddled up with a punk.
e. all of the above (and more that is clearly uncomftrable and weird to just spill out).
ok, I know I know, it doesn't sound as bad but hey picture me tall and steady mourning my existence exhaling like a crazy person, no offence crazy people you really look crazy.
I was supposed to go on a 4 day trip , this political organization's scouts trip. I used to like going there but as you get into your teenage years it is really hard to be consistent, ya know? This is actually what I am supposed to be doing today: I'm supposed to wear a blue shirt attached by red strings , I'm supposed to eat bad food and raw meat. I'm supposed to sing a song before I eat that says "come,come to the table" , hey I'm still waiting for that table. I'm supposed to get tanned and hot , I'm supposed to listen to political rap. I'm supposed to meet perverts. I am writing this so I guess I wasn't actually supposed to do all of that. Look where I am, at home, wow, the tv is playing a satire show -my head is blocked.
I know it is getting too long and too boring so I am going to place my fingers on the orange button as I let my low motivation take over my functioning.
MATHEW
I decided I needed to keep on writing because I may be in a very cruel situation and in order to maintain my sanity I need to do something. I guess that something is writing this post.
Let me tell you about yesterday. Let me tell you about the most dumb ideas I had running through my baked head yesterday. If you were to see me for the first time yesterday, your first impression of me would have been something like this : "wow this boy gets anxiety attacks over a bunch of crap, he is a total freak, his decision making system is managed by snow white's little midgets collaborating with Barnie." In times like this I swear, I would agree with you, I would add a 'shorty' to my middle name and live in a Hippie cage in the mountains (yes, I'm afraid I just smashed every aspect of todays teens and what not into one little sentence). For those who missed my outstanding performance yesterday and never got to draw their first impression of me, I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt for just a few moments as I quiz you. What do you think I did yesterday?
a. Had to write 3 pages of rubbish for a literature test.
b. wrote pros and cons so I could make a good decision ending up writing :" depression" three times on both sides.
c. Named my father's finger Daria Fingg
d. cancelled a 4 day trip after getting into a massivve panic attack , I developed a 'packing' trauma a while ago that poped out of nowhere yesterday.
c. I ate frozen pees because the microwave didn't heat them properly and thus I gave up after 15 minutes - this my friends, is not yummy.
d.Cuddled up with a punk.
e. all of the above (and more that is clearly uncomftrable and weird to just spill out).
ok, I know I know, it doesn't sound as bad but hey picture me tall and steady mourning my existence exhaling like a crazy person, no offence crazy people you really look crazy.
I was supposed to go on a 4 day trip , this political organization's scouts trip. I used to like going there but as you get into your teenage years it is really hard to be consistent, ya know? This is actually what I am supposed to be doing today: I'm supposed to wear a blue shirt attached by red strings , I'm supposed to eat bad food and raw meat. I'm supposed to sing a song before I eat that says "come,come to the table" , hey I'm still waiting for that table. I'm supposed to get tanned and hot , I'm supposed to listen to political rap. I'm supposed to meet perverts. I am writing this so I guess I wasn't actually supposed to do all of that. Look where I am, at home, wow, the tv is playing a satire show -my head is blocked.
I know it is getting too long and too boring so I am going to place my fingers on the orange button as I let my low motivation take over my functioning.
MATHEW
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