Aching and betrayal; Fear and loathing.
Mood:  blue
Now Playing: Superman - Eminem
So I received this letter from Phantom telling me how she still cares for me and wants to still have contact with me and all that shit. This would have been quaint had it not been that I had recently learned that she has fucked the guy down the road so many times in a week or so than she has fingers and fucking toes to count on, and thats not counting the shit she'd "possibly" done, or has done since, with certain of his friends. Now I have thought through all the details (a hundred fucking times) and have found many areas of that situation that I should be mad or jealous of. The fact that he is one of two jock ass-holes I couldn't stand in high school. Or maybe that I was such a disgusting monster in her eyes that she could barely touch me, however now she's ready to be a random piece of ass at a phone call for this guy and his freinds. Obviously I was wasting my time trying to make only her happy, and instead should have been making myself happy and fucking every girl that wanted me and then dropping them off, at least I'd have the same experience this guy has so that I too would know exactly what to say to get laid and know how to keep them coming back whenever I call them (ok so I'm a little pissed on that part). Basically a number of other break-up horrors that I should be enraged over. However the only thing that really gets me is that I feel like I've been lied to and denied the person she really was. This person filled the stories of her time before me. This person snuck in and made appearances every time I was gone,whether I was out of town, in the ARMY, whatever, whenever I was gone this person appeared. Now its this person who is sending me letters talking about how she still cares for me when she probably just got done fucking this guy's brains out two or three times the night before. And as stupid as it sounds, its not really her fucking this guy 100 fucking times in a week that really bothers me, its why the fuck couldn't she have shown me this person she obviously really is. What was so fucking awful about me that I wasn't good enough to know the real her; and if I was so horrible that she couldn't really be herself around me than why the fuck did she even want to be with me, why did she let me go on trying to make this one person happy when that person was just an illusion. What the fuck kind of sick game is that. When this question has been put to others I usually get something along the lines of: Because she felt like I was in love with a specific person and as long as she acted that way I would stay in love with her. That she doesn't have enough faith in herself to be herself and before I loved her, and now that I'm gone, she has no self respect for herself anymore and that she is acting accordingly. That this is not what she wants to be. It reflects how she feels about herself. Shit I even had someone tell me that the "bootycall" comment in her letter was a sub-consious invitation for me to abuse her (yeah thats a little too deep for me too, drugs have ruined all of our brains). I'm not sure what to make of answers like that. Either way, I feel helpless, betrayed, and pathetic. I don't know what's worse, that she was playing some sick fucking game with me and really wants to be treated like a stupid, easy piece of ass or if she is doing all this as a reflection of how she feels inside now. Both seem pretty fucked to me and I can't begin to figure out how I would handle either of them. This is already more fucking space than I was wanting to devote to this. This was my reply to her letter. I just want her out of my fucking life. I can't fucking go to sleep at night without fighting through the mental images, and graphic scenarios. I'm bombarded with the putrified remixes of every good or bad memory I've ever had with her, all mentally remastered for the optimal disturbing factor. If I could just erase her from my mind, like that movie about Cum-spots on the Mind of Sunkist Oranges or whatever. Cut her the fuck out, maybe I could enjoy every second of my life and not just the ones where I have company or mental distraction. I hate being alone now.

Get in the Pit and Try to Love Someone
Mood:  chillin'
Now Playing: My Band - D12
A seemingly calm conversation that, while a couple of coy little comments flew under the radar from both parties, was fairly reserved and unaggressive was shattered horribly when the subject turned to Orphan and her not acquiring a rear view mirror for her truck. The spat turned into Syn degrading into a blind and mostly unintelligible rage that involved him hurrying randomly around his premises grabbing random shit that obviously belonged to Orphan and carting them down to my car the whole time bellowing vulgar insults and debasement's toward Orphan seasoned with various "you ruined my life"-esqe declarations. This had the possibility of being a moving experience if it were not for the semen like foam that kept ringing his mouth and flying from his lips nor the fact that for half of the fiasco he stormed around the area with his belt dangling from one belt loop down to his feet. Though it was a sad moment and I would hope that Syn weren't going through such a hard time I could not help but find the theatrics of the whole thing a bit comical. However all humor was dropped when Syn began getting into Orphan's face to curse her out. I was extremely uncomfortable with his backing her up against a wall with violent hand gestures in her face. I tried to pull him back but he shrugged me off, I felt forced to throw him bodily away from her and keep myself between them lest he do something that I would make him regret. After much drama and ridiculous statements I finally got him in the house and a bit calm and was able to get Orphan and I away and comfortably to the nearest bar for a drink. Not sure how to handle the situation.

So this is Chris-mas
Mood:  happy
Now Playing: Let's Give Them Something - Bonnie Raitt
It’s a brand new mutha fuckin day. I don't remember the last time I was this happy for each new day. Whether or not I know I have to work, bust my ass with shit work, or just sit back and relax all day, I'm in a good mood and loving life. I've been hanging out with my sister Orphan and friend Fred D a lot recently. Both have been really great friends and have helped relieve me of my brain dead twitch period in which I was hopelessly (and ignorantly) stuck in a quagmire of my own unfounded depression. Like any reformed addict who, once clean, runs naked through the streets screaming out warnings to the alien centipede people that keep crawling over your chest and comforter early in the morning, I feel as if my the quality of my existence has been increased 110%. I don't have enough thanks to give to all those (family, friends, love interests, kinky animals, and that crusty, old homeless crack head at the gas station last night) responsible for the elevated quality rating in my world right now. I have been keeping fairly busy and haven't been getting a lot of sleep, due to the late nights of fun and work and the early morning wake-up calls. In a THC induced stupor a "Monster House"-esqe plan has sprung forth for the remodeling of my house. As far as I can tell the bedroom will be decked out to resemble the inside of a coffin, with the pleated and buttoned cushioning on the ceiling (blood red satin with a sheer black fabric over it. Black drapery will hang down over blood red walls from the ends of the ceiling cushions. The floor will be carpeted with a dark red or black carpet which will climb and cover a 4' tall stage, that will big enough to fit my bed and give me about a two foot step surrounding it. The bathroom, which is what we are working on now, is being almost completely tiled with this great fucking ceramic tile that looks like rusted old metal paneling from an old ship or insane asylum. The main part of the house will be split into three areas. The living, the dining, and the study. The Living and study areas will be set with a floating wood paneling that will be laid in a dark/light pattern for a wooden pinstripe effect. Any visible walls in these areas will be painted a deep royal purple. The study however will have little of this as most of the walls in this area will be completely covered in floor to ceiling shelving; all stained a deep cherry or mahogany. The dining area will be made to look like an old soda shop or diner. It includes the kitchen, breakfast bar, and dining room. The floors, counters, breakfast bar, as well as the backsplash will be done in a black and white checkerboard pattern. The cabinets will all be painted black with blood red doors and a diner style booth complete with padded L-shaped booth chair. The trim that runs the whole main room will be painted blood red as well so that each area will tie in. It should be a lot of work and a lot of fun and it will make being stuck out if bum-fuck Lacom-pton again a little easier. I may be alone but at least I'm not alone. Rock over London, Rock on Chicago...Allstate, your in good hands.

It Hurts
Mood:  sad
Now Playing: Bad Day - Fuel
I've never felt so empty and lonely in my entire life. I battle constantly for control of my emotions lest the tear me apart, but when I can't hold on to them any longer and finally try and let them free I'm instead rewarded with a cold emptiness in my chest and a feeling like I can't belong in this existence and consciousness. Everything that I thought I couldn't take anymore seems so trivial now. All the bad memories and hurt feelings that flooded my view before seem to have disappeared from memory and all that is left is the happy times, the great times. What little of the unhappy times I remember just seems to there to bolster my thoughts of a new beginning; a revival. There is no revival however, no chance of salvation. The damage has been done. I'm still too devastated and destroyed to really decide if this was not a mistake. At night when I'm all alone in that room that used to be ours though, it seems like the worst fucking mistake I have ever made. I want to rush to her and fall to my knees and beg for forgiveness, beg for her mercy, and beg for her to love me like she once said she did. How she said she did. That thought circles in my mind as well. She said that she would always love me, that I made her happy, that I was to be her husband and father of her children. She said she loved me and that we would work whatever problems we had out. Because she loved me. Two weeks was all it took to change that. I understand that we said it was over, and that we said it couldn't work anymore. I realize that I am the one who first suggested it, but I could have been wrong. I might have been wrong. It is clear though that that isn't the case however. Life is a beautiful new horizon for her. She adventures forward into a bright sky, treading over the dark, cold pit that I've buried myself in. That’s when the anger begins to gnaw. Anger at the wasted energy and emotion I'm throwing at her, that I ignorantly seem to hope to make her remember how good the good memories were and how trivial the bad ones were. Then I sit stunned as those hopes, that should have been boulders smashing into her, wisp by her as barely a breeze. It’s just that easy for her. The anger burrows deeper. Why am I stuck in this rut? She doesn't love me, she doesn't want my love. I curl into this pitiful ball in this fetid shit-hole I've created for myself and cry out to be saved by a false savior who no longer cares for me and is just realizing that she probably hasn't for quite some time. The anger metamorphoses into shame. Shame at how pitiful and weak I seem to have become, yes, but the brunt of it is at the ones who do love me. As this disgusting, blind fool claws at ghosts of the past another sits patiently by my side and caresses me. It is she that tends to my never ending, self-induced wounds as I tear out at the shadows. It is she that smoothes back my hair and sings her lullabies to the whimpering child that I have become. While I writhe in my selfish heartache, she packages hers up and sets it aside so she can be my strength. The deep shame drills into my guts and my heart, pain in hopes that sanity will return to me. And sanity is exactly what I have misplaced. All the pain and disregard and lack of respect that I received as payment from the she that has left, I have never received from she who watches over the raving husk I have now become. All of the adoration and love and passion that I had always wanted in return for my own, she is bursting to drown me in. Instead of worshiping her greatness and caring and love, I give her a mewling child to watch over and comfort. The shame becomes so deep it awakens the pain again, and I can feel the cold, empty pit in my chest again. And where is my old friend. That which has always got me through every problem I felt I wasn't strong enough for. Where is the hate? Where is the raw fury that before has always been my stand-in for any form of negative emotion. Now when I need it the most, in my most desperate hour it has forsaken me. I'm alone. Alone without the love I've struggled for so long to attain. Alone by my blindness and senselessness to the ones who are waiting to give me that love that I have so craved. I am left less than alone by my own self-loathing. Its funny, life is supposed to be beautiful, but all I see is rot.

School's Out For Mother Fucking Summer
Mood:  irritated
So its the end of the first week of Summer break. Monday I had to take the hour drive to school yet again to load up the school's scrap metal yard into my Sculpture instructor's truck and unload it in the junk yard. "Why?" you may ask, "as part of my grade" I would then reply. This was all fine and dandy though, I wasn't bitter about such blackmail because I had a three month break, which was sorely needed. I spent tuesday, wednesday, thursday evening, and friday morning involved in large amounts of yard work. Friday evening I headed out from the house on my way to clean my mothers home. About 5 miles from home this stupid bitch pulls directly out in front of me causing me to slam my goddamn car into hers. I was cool, inside I wanted to rip her fucking eyeballs out and squeeze the jelly out of them and down her fucking throat while simultaniously ripping her fucking nipples off with needle nose pliars, but I kept my cool. I called the cops they came out and immediatly she goes off. "Oh, he was speeding. Yes sir. He had to be going like 40 or 45." Nothing can describe the rage I felt. The cop asks her "Maam, do you realize that the speed limit on this street is 45 miles an hour?" and the bitch says "Oh, no I didn't, but he was speeding he was going faster than that." That fucking whore even went so far as to tellt he cop that she pulled out in front of me in the first place because I was going so fast she didn't even see me. But I kept my cool. To add insult to injury, the cop doesn't even ticket her. But of course I've saved the best for last. when it was all said and done, she gets in her car and drives away, a small crack in her front bumper. I, however, wait in the fucking blistering heat for the tow truck seeing as how the front right of my car was mashed into my fucking wheel. yippie, mother fucking skippie.

Fun with Tumors!
So not long ago I went into Charity Hospital (cause I have no health insurance) to check out the odd lump on my throat. After a number of visits and a needle biopsy, it was found to be a benign tumor of my right parotid salivatory gland (I don't know man, I have a cyst on one of my other salivatory glands as well. What the fuck?). So it was decided that the tumor must be surgically removed. Now this was discovered about a month or two before this last semester was going to end. I was scheduled to come in for CAT scans and checkups as well as for preparations for surgery. Now because it is a tumor, the only times I could come in for this craziness was during the cancer clinic days which were only Mondays and Thursdays at 8:00am.

So every Thursday for three weeks I missed school, which was two or three hours away from Charity hospital, slowly getting behind in my work and having to argue with a non-understanding professor about my absences. This is where it gets fun.

So for three weeks I miss school. On the third week, I'm thinking to myself, "yes, bring it on Doc. I'm off next week for spring break you can schedule me for appointments every damn day for all I care." In which case the Doctor comes forth with, "so we are going to schedule for two weeks from today to come back in." Now what the fuck is that shit? out of a five week period, one of which I'm actually out of school, they schedule me for every week that I will have to miss classes. So whatever, just a fluke, I'm not bitter.

So School finally ends and I have a two and a half week period before I start my summer classes. I had specifically scheduled the surgery to be the first week (Wednesday) out of school, so that I had ample time to recover before I started class. However, they call me the evening before to tell me that the surgeon had to cancel, but would free up his entire schedule the following Wednesday to perform my surgery and nothing, NOTHING BY THE GODS, barring some unforseen emergency on that EXACT DAY AND TIME would keep him from this. So my surgery was rescheduled for the week before the week that I start summer classes, but that is cool because the surgery is on a Wednesday and the summer classes didn't actually start until the following Thursday, still leaving me a good amount of time to recover before classes.

So the morning of surgery, AS I WAKE UP AT FRICKIN FOUR IN THE GODAMN MORNING AFTER A NIGHT OF NO SLEEP OF ANY MENTION, I head to the hospital with my parents and girlfriend to go under the loving gleam of the scalpel. All was going well, I suppose, I strip down, don a gown and hair net thing, and wait in this ward bed for my moment. The surgery, which I was the first one scheduled for 5:15am, was delayed a bit due to a gunshot victim from the night before. However, a little later in the morning a lady finally comes with a gurney, and after my farewells and what not, am carted up to anesthesiology (hmmm...I wonder if that word has been butchered?) for my final paperwork and for the bombardment of drugs. Now, luckily, I was told to wait on the drugs until a Doctor could look at my CAT scans again to see if they wanted to remove the cyst as well as the tumor because I may need to sign another permission paper, which I must be uninfluenced for. I say luckily because, as I lay on my gurney in naught but a gown and hairnet, protected from the world by a sheet and some foil blanket, a Doctor comes in with the greeting, "I have some really bad news." After I fight the urge to shit all over myself over a statement like that, I ask what said news was. Turns out the Surgeon's father had had to be rushed to the ER for an angiogram and that the surgery would have to once again be rescheduled, this time it is for the 9th. This date is the first full week of summer school, insurring that I miss at the very least two days of class.

All of this is just further proof that the Wallace name has just been fucked in the luck department since William!

PHUK:TH4:P071C3
I took off work last Saturday in order to attend the Big Easy Brewery's Brew Off. The fee was $10, and the idea is that the local homebrewers go to a commercial brewery and take part in brewing a commercial beer. We were given breakfast, lunch, and all the Big Easy beer we could drink as well as 5 gallons of the wort. I had an ok time, but I was extremely fucking tired. You see, I had woken up the day before at 8:00 am and had never gone to sleep that night due to a late F/X session. Now granted I was able to pass out on a bench in the brewery for about two hours, but in the long run it didn't help. Anyhow, I left the Marrero based brewery an hour or two before sundown with heavy lids and a camoflaged bucket of wort. I headed to Metairie in order to take pictures of my father's bike and of a drawing I had done, however my father was not there when I arrived. I entered into his house and took a number of pictures of my drawing then went back to my car. On the ride back home however, a cop caught me passing a car (behind a number of other cars that had just passed me) going 86 mph on the 55 mph Causeway bridge. I pulled over at the nearest cross section only to be told that the cop had somehow gotten a "call" stating that I was driving as if I were under the influence. So he demands a field sobriety test, which I passed without error, yet he still didn't feel "convinced" that I should be on the road. So he ordered me to call two people to come out to us, one to pick me up and one to drive my car home. He then gives me a ticket for the speeding (reckless endangerment ladies and gentleman; 24 mile long bridge + 55 mph x it's own private police force = BULLSHIT!), and to add on to it my license had expired on my birthday last month. Now for round two, I had called my girlfriend and asked her if she could get someone and pick me up. We live maybe 20-30 minutes away from where I was, and I assumed that she would just go next door to where my mother lives and get her. However, as logical assumptions always seem to go, she did not do that. Instead she calls one of our friedns that lives 30-40 minutes from our house in the opposite direction from where I was waiting. After about an hour or so of sitting in my car, as my annoyance at my situation marinated into the beginings of anger, the cop approaches my window again. Right as the motherfucker is asking where the fuck my ride is, my girlfriend and friend pull up, which prompted the cop to give the cute little fucking comment that "it would be easier to just arrest me". Cock sucking pig.

But I'm not bitter. I'm just looking ast a manditory court date, a fine that I don't even want to try and imagine its cost, and the possibility that my license will be suspended. So what a merry fucking weekend that was.

On a better note, Elric's (my ferret) surgery was not mortal, he seems to be recuperating well, and the results from the tumor that had been removed came back benign. So at least I didn't have to kill anyone. I feel I have bitched enough. That is all.

Quit while your a head.
It is currently 4:48 in the morning. I got home from my F/X meeting at about 3:30. I made my first head cast tonight. It wasn't that bad for my first try, though I have thought of some ways I may do better on my later attempts.

I'm tired.

I woke up yesterday morning at 8:00 in order to take my ferret, Elric, to the vet for surgery. He made it through ok, but the tumor they had to rumove was much larger than the vet was used to seeing. They sent it off to be analyzed. I have to be in Marrero at 6:30 this morning for the annual Big Easy Brewoff, and I have not slept. Yippie fucking skippy. I will sleep well tonight...and have beer fermenting. What more could a simple space monkey like me ask for.

On a brighter side, I'm being attacked by grossly enlarged glands. I have had one on my neck since I was about 13 or 14, and a couple of months ago I discovered another one there. This made me nervous so I visited the doctor. They ran my blood and CAT scanned me and all that fluffy goodness, and the results were fine. Just need them to be drained or removed or whatever. However, now the glands in my arm pits seem to be slightly swolen. What the fuck is that about? All I can say is that it better not be cancer or some fucked up terminal illness. I just started getting back on track in life.

SCOTCH EGGS ROCK!
I learned my lesson I'm assuming. I guess we shall call it karma. A number of months ago my good friend tHOR broke up with his girlfriend. During a mutually uncomfortable experiance involving left-unnamed substances and awkward, nervous silent sitting, I said some things that were unnecessary and hurtful to the lass. I did not realize what effect I had had on her until a number of days later when I got a call From tHOR recounting how his ex had driven to his house that night to crawl into bed and lay there crying and claiming her deep hatred for all of his friends. After hearing this I had asked him to apologise for me and resigned myself to my own personal feelings of shame and self-loathing for yet another fucked up action I could chaulk up on my board of how much of an ass-hole I am and figured I would never really see her again. That however is not how life works. So, minus a breif encounter at her work place, I found myself in her favorite bar and having all that that lovely shame bubble up like bile in my throat. Now let me explain something here. We all have that side of us that we try to pretend doesn't exist, I assume this of course unless I'm the only alien monkey fucking hybrid that feels this way. Now I'm not sure on what level this black bog of scum part of our beings surfaces for each individual, but when my protective barrier breaks down and the flashes of denied memory start speeding across my mind's eye before I realize what vicious pandora's box has been opened, the feeling of shame and self dissapointment well up in my so strong it almost causes me pain. I don't like to fuck up anything, in fact I don't think that anything could piss me off more than feeling like I fucked up. I don't care what it is, a job, a drawing, walking down a hall without buming into something, the sligtest mistake and I'm usually enraged. I also am big on the "Golden Rule," thing. I've been fucked over, judged, and ridiculed all my life because people didn't like the way I looked, or how I spent my fucking free time, or just for fucking being quiet. I have always respected and tried to adhere to the idealized notion that if everyone treated eachother with the respect and kindness that they themselves would want, then the world would be a much better place. So I have always tried to adhere to those standards. The night I made my comments to tHOR's ex, I was not following those standards at all. The reason I drag all this bullshit about shame and morals and dark sides is basically this. However each of us are affected by this doppelganger like side of us, we usually don't like it. We don't want to have to admit that we have that side, that person who not only is not like us but that we actually loathe and causes us further disgust that such a vile excuse of a person resides within ourselves. Our natural instincts are to turn a blind eye and create a weak psychological block on those instances in our life where we let that "Mr. Hyde" out to take his due of our consiousness. We would do anything to not be brought back to that corner beating ourselves and crying out in anguish at the memories that come when we let our guard down. It's easier to try and forget or dull the edges with fabricated justifications, but when you find yourself with the fleshed out reality of that shame and anguish staring you in the face and asking you what song you want to hear off of the jukebox your choices, decisions, and reactions suddenly retract to but a handful. As I stood there I realized that I may be able to change the reality that I had created. I had to apologize to her and myself for allowing that side of me out. In order to do this however you must battle your shame and instincts first. I'm sure that this seems small and of little challenge to most of the world, but I am the only person who I have always feared to face and whose judgements and belittleing statements caused me to flinch. Thankfully I finally did it, the girl expressed that it really meant alot to her and like some christian rebirth story I actually felt as if a heavy burden had been lifted from off of me. This is where the karma comes in, later that night one of the girl gentlman courters, decided to arrogantly and drunkenly make judgemental comments to me and just be a rude motherfucker through and fucking through. Regardless of how much I tried to be calm and not let the asshole get to me, I left that night wishing strongly for something that I could wrap my fucking hands around and use to fucking break everything in my sight. This raw anger lasted all through my sleep, and well into the next day until late evening found me feeling exhausted from the strain of frustration.

The moral of this story is to always follow the golden rule, that way when that natural born asshole comes along in your life, you can at least have a sense of peace with yourself instead of feeling like you got what you deserved.

Wake up, you're asleep at the wheel!
So, originally I had intended for a simple, reasonable night with bABY before I left. Go eat dinner, maybe catch a movie, rent some DVDs, or possibly go out for a little while and play some pool or something with our friends. After I got home from work and...ahem,....conversed with bABY, I decided to take a shower before we left to go eat. As I'm about to enter the shower the phone rings. It's an old friend of ours who was in the neighborhood, so we invited her to come eat dinner with us. We ate at Cucco's as we tried to think of something we could do while the night was still young. We later met up with oRPHAN at tHE sHOP, and somehow or another decided that we wanted to be in the presence of either uNCLE cID (who hasn't even been seen in ages) or my eX, sTACY. Well we plummeted into a mad stream of phone tag until we finally found my eX's whereabouts. Armed with this information and deadly sense of purpose we headed out to her location, picked her up, and carried her to our house.

Enter, one hour later. Those assembled in tHE sHED were: bABY, oRPHAN, sYN, our old friend and her boyfriend, and finally, myself. From that point on we talked, drank, danced, etc., until I realized that it was now daylight. I was still wide awake, and knew that there would be no real point to me going to sleep for an hour or two, so I stayed up and tried to get some of the packing, for my trip to Florida tonight, that should've been done days earlier. So, it ended up that it wasn't just simple night to be with bABY, and now I'll regret it because I'll only be able to see her briefly before I leave, If I get to see her at all. Yes all, I am a whipped bitch. I'm one of those guys that finds it hard to sleep without his girlfriend next to him, as well as the type who starts missing her before he has even left. Whatever.

I did however have a very good time with all that had attended last night, the usual tom-foolery usually associated with visits from my eX. did not commence, but nontheless, I had a great time. I wouldn't shut up to save the fate of the world, but I had a great time. Thinking back on it, it was definately one of those perfections in chemistry and the stars that you remember in later years. The kind of memory that will bring the look of nostalgia to your face and the blissful grin that one of my age has seen on many an older person's face when remembering "the good ol' days" or even worse "the golden years", saavy?

So, once again I would like to thank all of you that attended, It was a night I'll remember, and hopefully it had the same effect in return.