Things have taken...interesting turns ( Read more... )

Watching The Walking Dead, I'm interested, it's engaging, it deals with some pressing issues in some form or another - there ARE dynamics - but that's not the point. I'm rambling already ( Read more... )

Being anti-cultural or anti-corporation is for fourteen year olds who are too stupid and idealistic to recognize their own position in the greater context of the world around them. Think about how much you're "damning the Man" next time you're in the drive-thru, or going to the bank, or walking to/from class, or putting on your fucking underwear ( Read more... )

I could cry and spit and flail and shout and never get these feelings out; to help my soul, my body, mind, and forever crash and yearn and pine. And if I die before I wake I pray the whore my soul, do take. For I have naught but pride and shame and have never known another name. Though sweet and clean and good to me your abject means mean blind ( Read more... )

There was a burning field of grass and leaves over which we walked without hesitation, the flames barely breaching the soles of our shoes and feet as we meandered - though with definite purpose - up towards the crest of the hill silhouetted by a blanket of clouds the color of bruises against a vibrant and violent sunset. As we reached the ridge the ( Read more... )

Around the time I filleted (filleyed, fillayed, fileted, fileyed, filayed?) my finger with The-Pocketknife-I've-Come-to-Identify-With-My-Fleeting-Sense-of-Youth trying to carve a hole in the bottom of a fruit-punch-bottle-stuffed-with-dryer-sheets so I could smoke within the confines of my own (university-owned) bathroom with the shower running and ( Read more... )

For years I've been telling myself and others that Im quiet because I like talking only when something really needs to be said; so much so that I actually started to believe it myself.
The truth of the matter is I really dont have much to say. I feel ignorant and out of place in conversations, unable to respond to anything, groping for some ( Read more... )

Until she was seven years old she lived in an old unpainted house on an unused road that led off Trunion Pike. Her father gav her but little attention and her mother was dead. The father spent his time talking and thinking of religion. He proclaimed himself an agnostic and was so absorbed in destroying the ideas of God that hed crept into the minds ( Read more... )

Lies My Teacher Told Me is, without a doubt, the best, most sensible non-fiction book I have thus far encountered in 19 years of existence.

Nice guys don't finish last, they just have to start a little later.