The Dude Abides

Let me take you down, ’cause I’m going to, Strawberry Fields. Hello fellow readers.  Interesting that I call you ‘fellow’, isn’t it?  Well, actually not really.  From time to time, I myself enjoy perusing my own posts.  Nostalgia, maybe.  Remembering better shitty times.  In any case, at least now you know we have something in common.  Alright, now let us move on to the post at hand.  Really, it isn’t anything to get excited about, other than that it’s mine.  A couple of poems that are past due in posting, although neither of which I deem good.  Afterwards I plan on bitching, so go ahead and plan your day accordingly.  Got it planned?  Good, now read and love me.

The first poem is also a first attempt at writing something that isn’t so damn obvious.  Granted, the theme is more or less the same, but I thought I’d try and make it more symbolic, and, when it boils down to it trippy, thank you Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds.  In that regard, I utterly failed.  However, it’s not a terrible poem, and I enjoyed trying to expand my realms, even if I dare not leave the safety of couplets.  Ladies and gentleladies, for your viewing non-pleasure, I give you this poem.

Pieces of thoughts flow through an altered-conscious stream.

Congregating in a sequence and creating a dream.

A soothing Presence says not to worry.

I’m sliding into Tommy’s ‘amazing journey’.

I am myself, yet there I am.

I watch the dream, yet there I stand.

I get in the car and begin the drive.

Flee from the real and begin to feel alive.

A momentary word is the only toll.

Talking to the Man who’s in control.

And then I ride the wormhole exit to the start.

Arriving long before piercing sadness conquers the heart.

A whisper of future echoes in my mind.

And I ignore it, for now’s not the time.

A detour in time and my journey skips.

The control of it all seems beyond my fingertips.

A many-faced man is who greets my arrival.

And I stay for four months, wishing to leave all the while.

Finally I hail my mind’s taxi-cab.

And I leave the dark, and the drab.

The sun’s light thief greets me there.

What happens here, I’m quite aware.

The whisper that was, now surrounds me.

My question, an answer, and I’m all I can be.

“Yes,” and my journey rockets to a different world.

I, myself, and this girl.

It’s this world where I wish to remain.

Where the ending never happens, where there is no change.

But a dozen tulips bow in sorrow.

Foreshadowing the coming morrow.

Love moves into my head.

It melts away the hate and dread.

The dark blue dress makes me feel weak.

The night that follows, serves as the peak.

A sharp left turn, and I‘m away.

My heart is breaking, like the day.

I see myself, and I’m crying.

I hear my soul, hear it dying.

No one else is able to see.

For the many-faced man is also me.

The faces are the state I’m in.

They appear as fake, mannequins.

I’ve arrived at the end of it all.

I hate the dream, yet I still stall.

Because in the dream, it’s all fine.

I wasn’t foolish, and you’re still mine.

Pieces of thought flow back to me.

And I return, sadly, to reality.

There, did you get your fill of cheese?  Add some macaroni and you’re talking a decent meal.  Yeah, yeah I know.  Get over it, right?  Piss off.  It’s not like I WANT to exploit this for writing.  Truth be told I’d rather be rhymeless and have nothing to write about, which I’m sure I’ve said before.  Meh, fuck it, let’s move on.

The next poem, as I said there were two, is my version of a Beatles song.  Come Together gives a description of each Beatle in one of the verses.  So, instead of creating my own song, I kept their ideas, only subbed in people I thought I could describe.  The problem arose in trying to describe people without coming out full-fledged and saying their name.  Also, I couldn’t just describe them outright, I had to make up some nonsensical shit in order for it to sound anything like the damn song.  Again, I utterly failed.  Again, I enjoyed the attempt at branching out, and in this one there aren’t as many of those damn couplets.  So, without further adieu, my version of Come Together, bear with me.  (Because WordPress is ridiculous I have to put my own hyphens to separate the verses.  Apparently double spacing doesn’t do shit.  Whatever.)

—————————————————–

He’s boiling over, he got quiet uproar.

He got prison school day, he plays incompletion.

He say, “Hurry up ‘cause now’s a bore.”

Volcano eruption soon blows open the door.

———————————————————–

He run and run, he got, photo funding.

He feel, lovey nothing.  He’s just driftin’ nowhere.

He say, ‘Give the green’ for his physique.

Tries to be the crowd but he just way too unique.

—————————————————————–

He pencil wizard, he got, heavy say so.

He hate, bitter acting, he feel, no conditions.

He say, ‘…I don’t need reality’.

He just ‘live in the house of love peacefully.’

———————————————————-

He heartbreak refuge, he just, always chillin’.

He see, deeper than deep, he love, all of the three.

He say, ‘View it all in apathy.’

‘If He is or if He’s not that’s alright with me.’

———————————————————–

Enjoy that?  I hope so, it was a bitch and double cunt to write.  If you know me at all, than figuring those four fucks out won’t be any problem.  If you have trouble, hesitate to call, and I also advise against the postal service.  Just comment telling me you don’t know who they are, and I’ll respond my chuckling and telling you to fuck off.

Alright, now that we are through the posting of my poems, let’s talk fucking turkey, fucking functioning as an adjective.  Here’s the deal.  I’m lazy and bored.  A job could remedy this, but fuck that.  What I really want is somebody to talk to, preferably a chick.  I mean, I have all of this stuff in my noggin that I would like to discuss.  If I could find a chick that could just chit and chat about music for an hour, that’d be sweet like a lolli, or the second part of a sour patch bear.  As it is, I have me, myself, and my blog to talk to, and the other part of a relationship (such as dating) really is nonexistent, although my blog once made a pass at me.  Tried to tell it that we’re better off as friends, but it just couldn’t get over that fact.  It started writing poems about me and the blog.  Creeped me out.

Perhaps it’s me.  Who am I kidding? I’m quite sure it’s me.  HA!  Want to hear my perfect idea of a date?  A little Rock Band, a little Halo, talking about music, dinner, a movie upstairs, a kiss goodnight, and then off to my dreamland.  I could probably nix the Halo, but I’ll leave it in there for emphasis.

My point, in a very obtuse yet roundabout way, is that I’m boring.  I know this, and I know that I sure as shite not going to become Mr. Sociable just to bag a chick.  And I’m back to Square fucking 1.  (Why squares, by the way?  Personally, I’ve always been a fan of circles.)  Circle 1 consists of me writing poems about dreams and journeys and lost love.  I must like Circle 1 a lot.

It’s frustrating to an extreme I have never known.  I just want to move on, get over it, stop complaining.  I want to let her go, stop fucking writing about her, (in the slim event she still reads) and give me a sense of ‘fucking hell I’m glad I’m out of that’.  Of course, sitting around doing dick with your time really gives you a shit ton of opportunity to just think.  I’ve found your mind is useless when it’s always preoccupied.  Damn shame.  Meh, fuck it.  Moving on.

I am half way through John Lennon: The Life.  Until, and even a little bit after he started taking acid, that guy was a gigantic fucking dick.  He didn’t give a shit what he said, or to whom he said it.  Personally, I don’t know how these guys made it as far as they did with him running his trap all the damn time.  As much as he was a creative genius, that guy needed to be punched in the face.  Of course, once he started tripping, he became this peaceful guy with an even bigger sense of insecurity than before.  *Spoiler alert* He gets shot in the end, or so I’ve heard.  Shame, another iconic music figure taken before his time.  These things sadden me.  Just think of a world where Hendrix, Morrison, Cobain (maybe), Delp, Moon, Lennon, and Bonham were all still alive, along with anybody influential that died early.  Imagine all the people, living life…with good fucking music still around.

Welp, that about does it for me.  A longer post than I’ve been cranking out lately.  Thank you average poems.  If nothing else, you filled some damn space.  Until next time America.  Take it easy.

The Dude

P.S.  I still love you.

Hello readers, and how are we this morning?  I’m posting now because I’ll be gone getting my mascot on all fucking day, and by the time I get home I will be too damn tired to do anything but sleep.  So enjoy it now, because you fucking love me.

My title, you ask?  Ugh.  Last night was Uniontown’s homecoming.  They got their asses whipped, and rightfully so.  Either way, the whole ceremony made me start thinking again.  Roughly a year and a day ago, I danced with the homecoming queen.  I fell in love with her.  I was happy.  But, as quickly as one finds happiness, life is there to pluck it away with a chuckle.  And so now for the past four monthsish I’ve been doing nothing but moping around like the sad, pitiful fuck I have become.

Here is how bad it is.  I go to class, I come home.  That’s it.  That is my day.  I do absolutely nothing, aside from the occasional mascot appearance, to get my mind off of her.  Yes, I realize that four months should have gotten me over, or at least numbed me to the fact that there is apparently no going back.  It’s just something keeps telling me that what occured happened prematurely, and feel free to make any sick jokes you want.

Of course, I’m biased, because of my stance on the subject, but it’s not like I can lie and fake acceptance.  How dare I let her be happy, right?  How dare I just let it all go and move on.  Yeah, way to go Cody, real fucking genius.  I think I may be up for the Nobel Peace Prize for that one.

Prestigious awards aside, I really am kind of sort of but not really trying.  I mean, it’s not like I fucking cry myself to sleep like a little bitch…anymore.  Ha!  Yuck, I disgust myself.  I want more than damn near anything TO move on.  What could I want more than to feel some time of release from the whole situation?  Hmm, how about her?  Could I have that, perhaps with a side of curly fries?  No?  Well, how about just the curly fries then?  What do you mean you’re out?  Man, what a shitty day so far.

Alright, enough bitching about my shattered emotions and broken beyond repair heart.  In case you were wondering, the previous sentence was sarcasm.  I think I’m going to do a bunch of mini-rants.  Some are recent, some are past due, but I find them humorously idiotic all the same.

So, a couple months ago I was at Jamaal’s.  We decided on KFC for dinner.  His mother calls us back and tells us that KFC…pause here for dramatic build up…had run out of chicken.  What?  So, do we like order a pizza from there now?  Or maybe a big ol’ tub o’ taters?  What is the fucking deal here.  If you are a chicken establishment, you do not run out of your signature product.  It’s like going to a football game and them saying they don’t have a pigskin.  The fuck man?  KFC, go fuck a chicken, but do not serve me that one, when you finally manage to get some in your inventory.

Next up, stained glass windows.  Kind of a neat idea, but, in my opinion, a shitty raffle prize.  Last night at the game, the booster club or somebody decided to sell a couple of stained glass windows.  I was like, who wants to win two fucking windows?  You know, maybe if they came with installation, or perhaps the rest of the house, but alone?  Fuck you.  Cakes are a better idea, or maybe a pie or something.  Windows?  You’re raffling off something that takes manual labor to appreciate?  Welp, you just lost my bid.  Stained glass windows, go break.  You are completely pointless in the raffle realm, and the idiots who decided to do that are stupider than…hmm…FOX News.  Couldn’t think, so I decided to use the old reliable stand by.

Speaking of idiotic right-wingers (terms not dependent on each other, as I know a few intelligent ones), Glenn Beck ceases to prove how dangerously close to insane he is, or actually just stupid.  I needed some filler, because my wordage is really slim as of right now, hence this sentence.  Anyways, he predicted the cost of the Vancouver Olympics to have cost the city 1 billion dollars.  Holy crap, that is bunch of money.  Wait, what?  I’m getting my live feed from ‘reality’.  Oh, really?  Folks I’ve just been informed by reality that the Vancouver games do not happen until 2010.  So, exactly how have they lost 1 billion dollars if nothing has happened?  I mean, sure, the stadiums cost to build.  Damn them for creating jobs.  But, ticket sales and souvenir sales, I’m sure the city gets a chunk of that.  Plus, tourism bumps even higher, since the Olympics are kind of a big deal.  So, um, Beck?  Fuck off.  You predicting but stating as fact numbers are fucking ridiculous, unless of course you can travel through time, in which case you are now more of a dangerous idiot.  Who knew idiots could be dangerous?

Welp, that just about does it for me.  In an hour I have to go take pictures as the mascot with anybody that wants to take their picture with me.  Apparently, there are enough fans of the Cheer/Dance team to make this photo op last two fucking hours.  Should be fun.  Another side note here, I actually had to go to cheer/dance practice on Thursday.  8:30 PM-10:00 PM.  I got up on two people’s legs, stepped down, and watched the rest of practice.  Seemed a bit, useless.  Anyways, I missed the Office because of it, so I was a tad miffed.  All in all, a really shitty weekend ahead.  I’m praying for a lot of things right now, but strength, patience, and a mind wipe are on top of the list.  Sometimes, if I weren’t so damn awesome, I contemplate never leaving my house again.  Damn curse, sexiness is.  Until next time America.  Take it easy.

The Dude

P.S.  I still love you.

Seriously, how far is religion supposed to be taken before it starts fucking with people’s lives?  Actually, it is more of a skewed version of religion, something I like to identify as ‘fucking ignorant’.  Hello readers, welcome back to my love shack, minus the love and shack parts.  This post I believe will be my most challenging to write, because it deals with putting people in their place.  Original, right?  It is when that person is your grandfather.  Alright, get ready for a double-shot of truth and correctness.  I’ll try not to get you too drunk, don’t want you passing out on account of ingesting so much right.  Enjoy.

Okee doke then, let me lay out the scenario that has caused such a fuss.  My aunt is a lesbian.  No need to beat around the bush, she does that for me. (Terrible joke I know, but I found it quite humorous, although perhaps in poor taste.)  In any case, she is easily the most level-headed person on my Dad’s side of the family, perhaps with the exception of my grandmother.  However, this type of lifestyle is NOT tolerated by that side of the family, to the point that her partner is not welcome to family functions.  These unspoken ‘rules’ are decided by my grandpa, and everybody just falls in line.  My grandma really isn’t in tune to this way of thinking, but keeps quiet to keep the peace.  It’s sad really.  Well, my aunt and her partner decided that they wanted to have a kid together.  So, before telling anybody on my Dad’s side (except her twin brother), she went to my Mom and us kids.  My mother, who has been separated from my Dad for two years, is her primary source.  She said that she knew that Mom had raised us with a good set of morals, and that we were understanding of the situation.  Let me pause a moment to give you my stance on the whole ordeal.

I am against gay marriage.  I am.  I think the lifestyle is immoral, and I really believe that it is a sin.  That being said, I really don’t care either way about them legalizing it.  If two people of the same gender want to get hitched, that is their cross to bear.  Also,  I DO believe that a gay couple should be able to have a kid.  Love of a child is not strictly bound to a man-woman relationship.  So, when Mom told me the situation, I was pretty cool with it.  It doesn’t bother me.  Here is what bothers me.

When my aunt finally decided to tell my grandpa, he was none too pleased.  In fact, he went so far as to say that the kid would not be treated as equal in the family and that the whole ordeal would be highly looked down upon.  In essence, he was pretty much disowning her and anything related to the matter.  HOW FUCKING DARE YOU.  WHERE THE FUCK DO YOU GET OFF SPEAKING SUCH IGNORANCE?  This is horseshit, fucking horseshit.  His stance is religion.  Whatever, that is no loving religion I know of, especially not Christianity.  He is doing a double of what the Bible says.  He is hating the sin AND the sinner, not just the sin itself.  To completely leave a child out of family recognition is like blaming the kid for your lack of tolerance.  He hasn’t even been born, and already the hate is being tossed at him.  Your love for your child should not diminish because she may be sinning in life.  If that is so, then we are fucked when it comes to getting into Heaven.  God’s love for us isn’t conditional, and neither should be your love for your children.

No, I resent his views and anybody’s views that are similar to his.  I am above that, smarter than that.  If my aunt happens to read this, know that you have my full support and love, and that your kid will receive no shunning of any kind from me.  Likewise, anybody who reads this and supports the idiot side, go fuck yourself.  I will forever consider you less than intelligent due to your obvious showcase of ignorance.

The shocking thing is, this isn’t the first time something of this nature has happened.  When we found out that I had an older sister (who my mother gave up for adoption, given the circumstances regarding the conception), everybody was extremely happy for the reunion.  Well, almost everybody.  My grandpa told my dad that it was good to find her, but that it was a chapter in Mom’s life that should be left closed.  In other words, don’t fucking see her ever again, because she isn’t a biological child of my dad.

Here is how it really is.  She is my mom’s child.  My brother, my younger sister, and myself are also my mom’s children.  That makes us ALL siblings, and I don’t give a flying fuck who our fathers are, we have common blood.  For somebody to try and deny the right of my mom to see her daughter after 20 years of wondering is flat out wrong.  It’s something I take offense to, and I will not tolerate.

Why do people try and stamp out love simply because it doesn’t add up to the customs of yester-year?  Because they know they’re losing control, and are lashing out in ridiculous ways in order to try and maintain that sense of ‘order’.

Don’t try and sell me on that religion stance bullshit.  They try and sell that ‘holier-than-thou’ crap, it serves to no end other than piss me off.  You aren’t showing love and compassion.  You aren’t walking in the path of Christ.  Are the ones you condemn so much worse than you that you have the right to isolate them from family and love.  Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.  No takers?  Good.  You’re fucking welcome.

There, I have spoken my piece without voicing my opinion vocally.  In other words, I have accomplished jack and shit in improving the viewpoints of the people I am so furious at.  Oh well, time keeps ticking away, unless you have a broken watch.  In that case, I hope you don’t rely on it to check somebody’s pulse.  Chance’s are you’ll get a false pronounced death.

That does it for me.  Lookie there, a half-decent rant and no lame poem.  I’m going back to days of old.  Sure is looking sexy again, my writing.  Quick update on my non-love life…Well, nevermind, nothing new to report.  HA!  Alright, I am leaving now.  Until next time America.  Take it easy.

The Dude

P.S.  I still love you.

Hello.  If you wonder at my title, it’s probably because you don’t speak French.  In the event that you do, you are pretty smart and you know the meaning and significance of this statement.  Readers, I am not going to be posting a poem this time.  I know, terrible.  Why, you ask?  Because I have no poem to post.  It has happened that the greater I enjoy writing, the shittier the poems become.  So, until I fucking hate writing again, I won’t.  That being said, we will now move onwards with this post.

Brad Delp once wrote, “I have a solitary heart (translation of title).  I am a lonely soul.”  Afterwards he killed himself by carbon monoxide poisoning.  Although I think he is a fucking moron for pulling a stunt like that, I know how he feels, except without that whole suicide shit.

I am a lonely soul.  I’ll admit it.  I realize it quite vividly.  I can even tell you that it is my own fault.  I am not going to go out and make a bunch of friends.  I hate people.  They’re flawed and useless.  I come off as a prick because I am so bitter at what I perceive to be a shitty hand that I’ve been dealt.  I refuse to talk to, or hardly even acknowledge the girl I loved and lost, because I’m too fucking cowardly to face the inevitable hurt I know it will bring, even though I’m sure it would make things easier on the both of us if I just grew a pair.  I also like the pronoun ‘I’ quite a bit.

I see everybody changing around me, and I wonder what they perceive as growing up.  To me, it’s just being responsible.  To others, it’s becoming everything they weren’t in high school, at least the shitty parts.  I could completely change, become a typical college kid.  This means becoming a chewing, drinking, smoking, partying, sex-obsessed douche fuck who loves shitty music.  My biggest objection is the bad music.  Just kidding, but only slightly.

She was at the game tonight.  I figured she would be, so it isn’t like I was caught off guard.  I just deflated.  My mind just went back to asking questions.  Why?  What the fuck?  Serves to make an interesting late night, in that it will be just like old depressing times.

Do me a favor, will you?  If you happen to read this, toss me a message.  Tell me to fuck off.  Just do it.  I think it will finally let my conscious mind rest.  I’ve always preached that the easiest way to get over something is by telling the annoyance to fuck off.  Perhaps after I’m told to fuck off, I can go back to just being El Duderino.  An odd theory, but I think it is worth a shot.

Alright, now after all of these mini-paragraphs, it is time for me to rant.  I haven’t in a while, so chances are I am a little rusty.  Oh well, learn something anyways.  This is just a minor annoyance I experienced at the game, which I plan on blowing completely out of proportion in order to type a decent rant.

At the game tonight, as I was standing there avoiding contact with her (because I’m a dumbass), I had to listen to some annoying cunt babble on mindlessly about pointless shit.  Just stupid fucking gossip, and nothing else.  The bad part is that she wasn’t even talking to me.  Guy she was talking to wasn’t interested either, at least not in what she had to say.  He was interested in a few things south of the mouth, although I’m sure the mouth was also involved in someway.  Either way, this chick is fucking retarded.  Maybe I’m not a genius, but I can clue in when somebody is trying to use me.  It disgusts me all the way around.  That chick is not only fucking annoying, she is also a big fucking dumbass.  It’s like, really?  Do you not realize that, generally speaking, guys aren’t really concerned about how bad somebody’s shoes were.  The guy is just trying to hit it, which I understand.  I don’t approve, but I understand.  Seriously though, the girl isn’t even good looking.  Big knockers, but she is hairy and grody and stupid.  To the both of you, stop.  You’re fucking for the wrong reasons, and dude, she is fuck-ugly.  You’re welcome.

Alright, something else.  I like to say that I swing both ways politically, but in most instances I lean towards the left.  If you don’t agree with me, that is fine.  Nobody is going to hate you because you’re wrong.  However, I digress.  My point is, I’m not a big advocate of the shithole excuse for a TV station that is FOX News.  I mean, besides Glenn Beck, Sean Hannity, Bill O’Reilly, and everybody else there, I’ve got no problem.  But, I do have to give them a smidgen of credit, or at least the guy that gave them the story.  By the way, worst pimp costume I have ever seen.

I’m talking of course about the hidden camera exploits inside ACORN facilities.  Fuckin’ hell, people!  I swear, I haven’t seen shittier advice since somebody told Keanu to act.  What those assholes were doing was ridiculous.  It was wrong, and it was illegal.  Shame that the President is kind of distantly involved with them…or was at one time.  Of course, he isn’t MY President, NO FUCKING BIRTH CERTIFICIATE!  Does anybody else hate those people as much me?  Ok, he has shown a certificate of live birth, this doesn’t satisfy you?  Get over it, you lost.  Kind of like what you said when Gore lost (won)?  Exactly.  Fuck you, go blow your elephant.

Alright, I think that about does it.  I realize looking back that this post is extremely scatterbrained.  I’d apologize, but it relates to how I feel.  Don’t like it? Don’t read.  I hope you go blind, you unappreciative fuck.  I am out for now.  Until next time America.  Take it easy.

The Dude

P.S.  I still love you.

Odd feeling, isn’t it?  Feeling nothing.  I can’t say that I don’t feel anything, because I would be lying.  So, how about this?  Nothing new, nothing that will change, and nothing that will make matters any different for all parties involved, which is mainly me.  That better?  Hello readers, welcome back to this glorious blog that is forever transforming into just a place for me to post my hastily written poems.  That is exactly what I plan to do with this post, and then continue on to explain it to all the dipshits who do not understand the greatness that is the wavelength of my brain.  I’m not sure why I feel compelled to write these things.  I have no aspirations to be a writer of any kind, nor do I plan on really talking about them outside of this blog, except to a few people.  Oh well.  Whatever the case may be, they are available for quoting, just send me a letter with the enclosed royalties.  A minor fee of ten bucks (per character). Now, onwards, ho!  And wash up better next time, you smell like burnt beans and stank.

I suppose I will start with the poem, as it is the whole reason I am even posting.  Odd how things work, isn’t it?  I’ve gone from nothing to post about to posting about my broken heart over and over and over again.  Now my only motivation for posting is to toss a few lines of rhyming words onto a page and gauge people’s reactions.  Lot of good that has done me, what with you people’s ever-active commenting, you cunts.  Just kidding, I could give one shit what people think.  See that?  Not even two shits.  Alright, fuck this whole continuing on thing.  Here is the poem, entitled “Rhymes”.  Just kidding, how lame would that be, Rhymes?  No, instead  I think I’ll go with something really fucking nuts.  Blow the damn handles off of your house, so you better go buy new handles.  After you finish reading this post, of course.  I titled it “His Image”.

We were created in His image, or so they say.

But does that still stand true today?

What exactly have we done,

To the image of His Son?

With every bit of extortion,

His image blurs with more distortion.

His image is forbidden passion and lust.

His image is intolerance and broken trust.

His image is anger, jealousy, and greed.

His image uses people for our need.

His image rips countless families apart.

His image is an infinite number of broken hearts.

His image is turning a blind eye.

His image destroys the very sky.

His image is looting after the flood.

His image is spilling others’ blood.

Perhaps I was confused, or I misunderstood.

I always thought that our God was good.

What exactly have we done,

To the image of His Son?

He is the Creator of you and me.

We were made in His image…weren’t we?

Yummy, wasn’t it?  I don’t know, everything I write comes off as cheesy to me.  And before everybody tosses criticism out there, I am quite aware that all of my poems are in couplets.  I have tried to be more intricate, it just does not work for Ol’ Duder.  It ends up turning out shittier than when I write in couplets.  Now that we have all that taken care of, let me clarify the meaning for all of you idiots out there, for I know there are some.

This poem is NOT anti-God.  It isn’t anti-religion or any of that shit.  It IS anti-people.  Anti-you and anti-me.  Look around you.  What have we created around us?  The world is in a perpetual circle.  We are born, we get fucked over, we fuck others over, we die.  People are destroying all that is good and awesome in this world, except my blog.  Is this how God envisioned the world?  I can’t say that it is, but who am I to speak on His behalf?  Never really met the Guy in person.

I know I shouldn’t preach at people, but it just pisses me off.  Once good people making shit choices, and then defending them by saying it’s not a big deal now because they are doing it.  No lie, I bore witness to such an event.  Good guy, too.  Wholesome family, Christian values.  In high school we both made fun of the idiots doing all that disgusting shit like smoking, chewing, drinking, and fucking.  (Fucking isn’t disgusting, but it is pretty damn stupid in high school.  I also realize the hypocrisy involved in making fun of somebody, yet saying they are the bad people.  Fuck you anyhow.)  Then I see the same guy a couple days ago with a dip in his mouth.  Why?  What causes somebody to make such an idiotic choice?  Granted, it isn’t like he went out and partook in an orgy whilist drunk and stoned, but the fact of the matter remains.  Maybe I’m the one who hasn’t moved on and become a fucking douche, like all college kids are supposed to.  Why is it so easy to hate people?  And that is me showing off His image in my own right.  I hate people, yet I am supposed to be a good witness to others.  Rather tough to do, when you wish everybody around you would piss off and just do what I say.  I know it isn’t right, but I continue on in my ways.  And the drums of time roll on.

Maybe it is because I have only a handful of people that really know me.  Perhaps it’s because very few have I really opened up to, and those people are few and far between.  One is deep in the caverns of love, and I’m not-a gonna bother him anymore.  Quite rude on my part to do so, and that takes a lot of rudeness for me to even admit that.  I lost one when I didn’t cherish the relationship I had with her, and I’ll forever kick myself for letting her go, and for every day that she doesn’t know how I really feel.  The final has problems of their own, and I’m not one to just lay my shit on you unprepared.  I hate when people do that.  I’ll let ya know when I’m ready for some deep shit, or at least ask me before spilling your guts.  Chances are I’ll listen, just give me a heads up.  Nope, for now I use this blog.  In a way, it is easier.  By writing down what I’m feeling, I HAVE to come to it face to face, rather than just brush it away with a joke or a quip.  Quip, when you say it, it sounds like a mouse fart.

Welp, that post was about as awfully sappy as they come.  Excuse me while I go shower.  I wreak of pity, bad writing, and awesome music.  That will just about do it for me.  Until next time America.  Take it easy.

The Dude

P.S.  I still love you.

The idea of this post is to give my fans a cleansing of the perception of the awesome author of this blog, yours truly.  For many posts, I have come off as brash, prickish, close-minded, hateful, and dead right (mostly).  My goal is for people to see that beneath this visage, I’m no greater than my readers, only a better writer.  HA!  So, prepare yourself for something not yet done on this blog.  I plan on revealing my true feelings about a couple things, and it is up to the readers to interpret why I am doing this, as I haven’t the slightest clue.

Sure, I’ve bitched and moaned about plenty of things, but this goes deeper than all that garbage.  It is sans all of the bullshit I’ve been tossing out for quite a while, and I mean to start all over with this post.  Of course, by starting over I mean doing the exact same thing with the exception of this post.  At any rate, I’ll start with a tad bit of writing.

In my last post, I said I had been working on something outside of the blog.  I lied, as I’ve had it done for about a week.  My inspiration came from this ridiculous argument that has been going on.  I feel that there isn’t a better time than now to just throw all this junk out here.  I threw this together in about 10 minutes, so bear with me for a few moments of your life, alright?

I was asked once to define love.

By choosing either dagger or dove.

From what I’ve seen, I safely say,

Its dwelling place is somewhat grey.

Because people are not so smart,

As to master the human heart.

Love keeps good and bad in its employ.

Love delivers sad, yet brings us joy.

Love is a baby’s cry, life begins.

Love is the final breath, it finally ends.

Love is young and full of life.

Love is suffering, pain, and strife.

Love is a rose in full bloom.

Love wilts, withers, and reveals gloom.

Love is summer, fiery and hot.

Love is winter, cold, and distraught.

Love must be heaven, a joyous tear in your eye.

Love must be hell to make your soul cry.

Love is wisdom come from age.

Love is years of harbored rage.

Love is new and grows stronger.

Love is old and is no longer.

Love is found and your heart cheers.

Love is lost and leaves only tears.

Love is a dream that you wish were not fake.

Love is a nightmare from which you can not awake.

Love is perception.

That attempt at a poem sheds only a little light on how I feel on the subject of love.  With all this being established, I do believe I must say a few more words.  These will be to my benefit soley, as they are things I should have established a long time ago.  If they offend you in any way, go fuck yourself, or perhaps find a worse blog to read.

Ahem, here we go.  I’m going to try and keep it sane and not overly whiney.

Kaitlin, I love you more than you will ever know, and I regret every day that goes by without you knowing how much I lost when we split.  All I want to do is cry/yell it all out, but I’ve no more tears to shed, and the ability to vent eludes me.  The pain from losing you has never gone away, and you are constantly in my thoughts, conscious and otherwise.  I dream that we are back together every night, and every morning I wake up in tears of anger and realization.  It frustrates me to no end the fact that I have no ability to control my subconscious.  I do not wish to wake up everyday realizing again I lost the person most precious to me.  Stupid fucking mind, and its dysfunction.

I despised the idea of opening up to you completely, and in the end it killed the greatest relationship with anybody I have ever had.  I realize now that it was my own fault for not having the balls to share with you how much you mean to me.  The fact of the matter is, I was, and still am, completely in love with you.  Had I been smarter, I would have told you that wherever you planned on life taking you, all I wanted was to be there with you, regardless of continent or career path.  Location is pointless as long as you have the one you love.  If there was anything I could ever do to make it all better again, I would do/go whatever necessary.

Indeed I have contemplated many times just throwing myself out there again, but my head regains control before I can do something so incredibly stupid.  It would be quite a pointless and sad site for any such thing to take place, and I would feel fucking ridiculous putting you in a situation like that.  I am sorry for how pitiful I must seem at times.  I even disgust myself with how ridiculous I have been acting.

And that is what it is, acting.  Do I really think love is bullshit?  No, at least not entirely.  Is it faulty?  Yes, mainly due to human error, like mine.  That, however, doesn’t give me reason to believe that every case of love ever is doomed to fail.  I have been a royal fuck wad to people that deserve nothing of that sort, I know this.  I have all but burned the bridge of my best friend, simply because he is enjoying himself in love, and I am bitter at myself for fucking up the only feeling of love I’ve had.  I apologize, sincerely.  It was never my ground to say you were wrong for being in love.

In closing, I write this because I need to.  I’m sure I sound like a damn retard with all of this junk.  Whatever, I could give two-shits less what you people think.  You may continue to sit in envy of my ability to vent using a non-pornographic site.  Now, go off to your thirty-second clip and your thirty-second get off while I finally sleep, feeling much less stressed without having used the services of a virus-filled site.  That does it for me.  Until next time America.  Take it easy.

The Dude

P.S.  I still love you.

It should be illegal, but I’m glad it’s not.  I’d probably be thrown in the slammer myself for copying somebody else’s style of writing.  Hello readers, have you enjoyed the bitching and complaining thus far?  Apparently somebody hasn’t, because they just refuse to back down, kind of.  And this pleases me, for I wish a combatant to destroy, which I plan on doing.  Ready?  No?  Too bad, you’re already infected with my post.  I command you to make it contagious.  But first, read and educate yourselves.

I harbor no hard feelings of people parodying me, as brief as it may have been.  I touched a nerve, and in frustration people tend to fall to those they admire.  You were no different.  You went right into the style of the person that influences you the most…me.  You were pissed, and you ranted because of it.  Familiar much?  Which, yet again proves my point.  I am fucking glorious.  Come on, it’s a simple fact you are going to have to come to terms with.  Ooh look at me, tooting my own horn, I must be getting a chubby.  I love myself so much, nobody is better than me, because I am me.  There, does that satisfy your cocky quota?  Contrary to popular belief, I’m not that narcissistic, although I have good reason to be.  HA.

Sure, you can say that you’re done writing and arguing about this whole schpeel, but has it not produced some of your most in depth thoughts, and arguably some of your best posts?  I mean, besides your poems (which are quite good), you were sort of struggling for awesome material until you started your bantering on and on trying to counter me.  Now, your last two posts have given you a reason to write about something you are obviously quite passionate about.  You may thank me later, and royalties can be sent to my address.  You’re welcome.  Now, moving on into my world that is nothing but pessimism and darkness, except for my awesome music, movies, and writing.  So, only kind of pessimistic, because I know I can’t go wrong with these, so there isn’t anything to complain about.

Fine, perhaps you may have felt some heartache.  I apologize for questioning your level of heartachiness.  However, and stay with me here, I know how you tend to float off on those tangents on how much you’re in love and why that proves everything is all right and good with love and all that noise, you had some idea what was going to happen.  You had a little bit of prep time.  Not saying it made things any easier, but I’m sure it significantly reduced the shock factor.  Imagine that if all of a sudden you just got a call and, out of nowhere, bam, she was gone.  Do you see?  Ah, fuck it, doesn’t matter one way or the other.

You’re totally right, I didn’t think it would work out in the end.  It doesn’t mean I loved her any less, or cherished the relationship any less.  Do you know what affect that had on me?  It made me work four times as hard to keep everything together, and in all of it my sense of reason and logic got lost in the shuffle.  I had every bit of faith that it would work out, because I was in love, and apparently that is the way love is supposed to work.  I fucking loved her with everything I had, and I still do.  I must have fucked up big somewhere, because it is obviously so simple.  Living to love somebody really paid dividends for me, what with it being over now.  Faith?  I assumed being in love constitutes faith in the relationship.  Of course I had faith, but so do many people that are wrong.  Mormons, Scientologists, and even Oprah have faith, but that doesn’t mean it all works out nifty-like for them in the end.  Eventually they will all share the same fate, disappointment.  Faith doesn’t bring forever in love, it just gives illusions of it.  I should know, I’ve had them.

How would she want me to live my life?  Interesting theory, I’ll give it a shot.  First of all, I doubt she would like me bitching and moaning at my situation in life, so I’ll stop that.  Okay, next she would want me to develop a strong walk with God.  I’m on it.  Finally, she would want me to live my life as happy as possible.  Oh, that’s right.  That would include her being with me.  Perhaps you could say the same about your grandmother?  Fucking hilarious how that worked out.  Golly gee, I just never thought of it that way, and now I know why.  It leads me right back to where I am, and that is why I will keep doing what I do.

It is true, I do laugh at ideas differing from mine, because I see how truly ridiculous they are.  Come on, you are going to preach to me about faith?  You’re they guy preaching to me about faith in a relationship when you debated ending it with Ashley?  You had damn near zero faith, and you sit there and wonder if I had any.  Hey, fuckin’ faith, right?  Yawn.

Again, I find you being right.  I should enjoy the things that are enjoyable.  Never said I didn’t.  In fact, if I recall somewhat correctly, I believe I said something about it being the best thirteen months of my life(ish)?  So afterwards, should I still enjoy them?  Let me just drudge up all those memories of happiness real quick, see if I can’t find one really nice and heart-wrenching.  How about the night I asked her out?  I knew right away I loved her, but I figured I’d give that some time.  I remember dancing with her, knowing it was glorious.  Kissing her goodbye before she left, now with the title of Dude’s Chick. Ah, memories.  Or maybe the night I told her I loved her, and she told me the same?  I was like, “Finally, somebody to be with for a good long time.”  Man, I am REALLY enjoying this right now.  Yes, I am stupid to not want to go through all that again.  Damn retard.  Fuckin’ pessimistic, I know.

Life has its moments, I just named a few.  But, I’m sure there are a bunch of shittier moments than happy.  In fact, I am quite positive of this.  Of course, I’m just a nay-sayer who always finds the bad in everything, except me apparently.  Who am I to say what is right and what is wrong?  That’s right, I am me.  I know that love is nothing more but an advance ticket to heartache, and I feel the only right thing to do is let everybody what a crock of garbage the whole idea is.  Now, it may conflict with your current position, but God forbid something does happen, I hope you feel the same.  Then you will have proven me wrong, maybe.

In closing, WOOOOOOOO! I won, that is all that really ever mattered.  It wasn’t trying to show people my (correctly-based) point of view, only to build my reputation as an argument winner.  Which is why I started the argument in the first…Anyways, I would now like to accept my award for winning.  How fitting, it’s in the shape of the world’s #1 Pessimist and noted Narcissist, me!

Perhaps not a toe stomper, but it is ok, I’ve already won, so that is all that counts.  He said so.  I think he brings up some interesting points, don’t you readers?  Granted, they may be a tad…wrong, but he has every right to be as wrong as he chooses, same as me and being right.  In case you haven’t, read his post now, actually before now, in order to get the full effect.

Come on, now, I wouldn’t let something as stupid a ridiculous as love get in the way of you being my best friend.  Did you stomp on toes?  Meh, more or less pulled the hair on them.  Either way, I’m not offended by any of the shit you say, because it is what you have to say.  It’s cool.

Anyways, that does it for me.  I’m off to go hate everything that isn’t done my way and think of ways life could be shittier, because I have to keep my rep up.  Also, I plan on jerking off to a picture taken by me of me.  It will be a menage trois of me.  Until next time America.  Take it easy.

The Dude

P.S.  I still love you.