The End

I’m selfish. I wished you the best. I wished you joy, prosperity, good fortune, good health, exceeding accomplishment, wondrous love. I wished all of these things for you in such abundance that you may not have been able to handle it alone. Which is why I wished these things when the possibility of us existed.

I am mature enough to accept that there is no potential in us anymore. That path has crumbled. That dream has faded.

But I am too immature to entertain the what ifs and eventualities of you without me, so the only good wish I have left is goodbye.

No bitterness to fester in my spirit. No anger to direct at anyone. I had a bit of both. For about 3 hours. Then they revealed themselves to actually be sorrow and sadness. And now they both linger.

Your name, that once was a harbinger of joy and happiness (or at least an involuntary smile), is now soft stab into my heart. A gentle and slight crush of my soul. So now, where I once sought as much interaction as possible, I must seek ever way possible to avoid a presence that permeated way more of my existence than I previously realized.

Somebody wrote a song that’s perfect for this occasion. Several somebodies, most likely. I won’t quote any of them. You can pick one for yourself. You know me better than you may think, so I’m confident that you would pick something appropriate. And I would never find out what it is.

Nothing ever ends. This is the end. Severed. As complete and as absolute as a fully functioning human being can manage. I will move forward and let life take me where it may. Never ruling out a possibility but trying my best to avoid confusing possibility for destiny. Nothing ever ends. This is the end.

Pain

Pain
My soul is so…
So
Sole
I pick at the stitches of sewed in stains
Alone
In my four cornered room
Sitting on the window
Pane
Reflecting on the candles that did glow
Until the wind’s blow
Change dealt the blow
Thought we were friends
Now I know
Lessons from the pain
Don’t lessen the pain
Don’t loosen the strain
I’m taught
So that must mean I’ve gained
Or it’s all for naught
This endless refrain
Pain

The Importance of Punctuation

For some reason  (laziness… Or maybe ignorance), people seem to hate punctuation these days. I’m not going to write a report on why punctuation is important, I’ll just provide you with an example of why it’s important.

I was listening to all the Kings of Leon songs I’ve managed to collect of shuffle for about 5 hours today. The main singer guy likes to repeat words and phrases a lot (most songwriters do). Anyhow “Pickup Truck” came on and I heard the following line a bunch of times and decided to add punctuations to it to change the meaning:

Just so you know I was thinking of you.

Just so you know, I was thinking of you.

Just so. You know I was thinking of you.

Just so. You know, I was thinking of you.

Just. So you know, I was thinking of you.

Just. So? You know I was thinking of you.

Just. So… You know, I was thinking of you.

So, that’s seven ways you can use the same words and make them mean completely different things just by adding some punk ass punctuation marks… Unless I can’t count. Then there may be more than seven examples. Or less. Whatever, you~ Get. What: the “fuck} I! Mean?

Oh, and here’s the song I was talking about:

And blame Swype for any spelling errors. Swype is a whore, but I kinda like her anyway.

Everyday Is The Fourteenth!

So, today is the fourteenth day of black history month. This black history month has been filled with heeshee (see LL Cool J “Flava In Ya Ear (remix)”). Don Cornelius committed suicide. Twitter lost its mind (much more than it usually does). Whitney Houston died. Carlos Boozer made his head go blackface. The grammy’s, once again, relegated rap to the “go to the back door to get your award” like it usually does (Will Smith is rolling over in his… Millions of dollars. Like a disgusted Scrooge McDuck.) I found out R. Kelly is illiterate. And I’m sure I’m forgetting a lot of stuff.

This month needs to end. Now. But, no. We have to endure one more day than we usually have in the month of February. Awesome. This is the last February ever, though, so I guess it’s ok. Don’t question the Mayans. DO. NOT.

Anyway, we are now on the 14th day of this wild ass month. Valentines Day. Valentines is Latin for “Expose your emotions”. Don’t look it up. Have some faith in the author.

I said don’t look it up!

Fine. I’m going to change wikipedia. Hold on a second.

Ok. Now that that’s settled, where was I?

Ah, yes. St. Love or be Bitter Day.

I’m hoping everybody has a great day. I’m also hoping to hit the lottery that I didn’t buy a ticket for. So that leads us to reality.

I’m not winning the lottery. Everybody won’t have a great day.

People on twitter were already complaining and belittling by 7:30 am. And since 5:00 am others were anticipating that. Probably earlier, but those times are early enough to demonstrate my point that I’ve yet to get to: Unhappy is more entertaining than happy.

Nobody wants to hear happy music anywhere near as often as they want to hear some broken soul wail about their problems and heartache.

You’re demanding examples? Here:

Mary J Blige’s music sucks now that she’s not on drugs and fucked up relationships aren’t her everyday life.

Lauryn Hill took the world by storm with her “Wyclef been treating me like shit” tunes. Now she has kids and a happy relationship with a married man and we all think she’s crazy and not entertaining anymore.

Adele just owned the Grammys thanks to her boyfriends inability to distinguish the difference between Adele and a blow up doll door/mat hybrid from Sharper Image.

And Amy Winehouse (RIP)… Yeah…

Also: Reality TV. Reality TV is mainly about people fucking up in life, if I’m not mistaken (I don’t watch it. I could be wrong. But I’m not).

And most people recognize that pattern. People want Adele to be miserable so they can pretend to relate whilst drinking wine before they go to sleep (probably next to a “good” significant other). Nobody wants to watch people on TV living a entirely great and happy lives. That’s boring. We need misery and suffering! Word to Agent Smith (Matrix reference!)

I’ve stated numerous times that if rapper so and so would go back to heavy drug usage their music would be awesome again *cough* Method Man *cough*.

We’re some selfish, horrible people for these thoughts and statements. Don’t deny it, either. YOU SUCK. Do better. (I’m talking to myself here, too. *insert Gnarls Barkley “Crazy” chorus*).

But, the other side of this is that these people voluntarily shared this stuff with us. They wanted to exploit their pain and troubled lives. Some of them end up regretting it and feeling even more miserable (in their mansions and expensive, high end everythings). They thought sharing would ease the pain and maybe even get them to “the good life”. It seems to do about 33% of that if you’re talented. The other 67% is a crap shoot based on this question: How well can you deal with vultures?

And then there’s twitter and other forms of social networks. You’re probably not going to get paid for the moaning and complaining you do there. But you do it anyway. Getting it off your chest feels good, right? Right. Until you face that backlash from the nameless people who don’t give a fuck about your emotions because they’ll never meet you anyway and therefore your feelings don’t matter. Just entertain us. Digital Colosseum shit.

You see it and you participate in it. #Dont lie…

Ok, I’m tired of trying to write halfway eloquently and giving examples and shit. Here’s my point:

The spectacular spectacle of a lonely voice that doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up is the center of popular entertainment and culture. And today is the hyper realization of this ideal.

You can agree or disagree. Find examples to support or disprove my claim as you see fit. Whatever. If you don’t see this today of all days, consider yourself lucky (and maybe ignorant). I’ve lost my interest in fleshing this out any further. TV and the internet have ruined my attention span. Sorry.

Ok, bye.

Predator

Go with the gag. Give up your throat. Open up and give them everything that they want to know. Over the edge off the ledge. Ecstasy and red wine to help take off the edge. Loosen up the apprehension, maybe forget your senses. Speaking on an unnamed aforementioned. The untamed that can never be trained is still attacking the fences. And when it rains it pours. Weakens the links and the beast can sense it. Ever seen a smirk of realization? Accompanied by an unnerving new sense of patience. Predator turned prey might turn to praying. Like a racist to a racer. Racing away from situations they created. But it’s so close to validation, it doesn’t mind chasing. And when you’re caught, you catch it. Flagrant. Judge all you want, but this is just nature.

R. KELLY CAN’T READ

HAPPY BLACK HISTORY MONTH!

This article is from 2009, but I’m just now finding out that Mr. Pee On And/Or Try To Marry Underage Women (also known as R. Kelly) is illiterate.

How?

What?

Oh. OK. I guess that explains all the ignorance. You’re actually incredibly ignorant. Like, his ignorance is as versatile as his music-making abilities. Also, similar to his sexually-creepy versatility.

R. Kelly is probably broke and doesn’t know it.

Is it possible to use Rosetta Stone if you can’t read any in language? I’ve never used Rosetta Stone, so that is a serious question. PLEASE BELIEVE ME.

Anyway, I’m going back to laughing at this dumb guy’s (and legendary music-maker’s) expense. Join me.

http://www.nbcchicago.com/news/local/R-Kelly-Illiterate-63768772.html

The Chronicle

I’m not going to write an actual review for this movie, but I wanted to say something about it.

I REALLY liked this movie.

Will you?

Do you dislike the “handheld” camera style of movies like “The Blair Witch Project” (and whatever sequels I assume it had) and Cloverfield? That’s understandable, but this movie is slightly different in it’s use of non-traditional filming via handheld cameras. It’s generally lot more steady, but not as steady as any director not using the Michael Bay approach to filming. You still might not like the way the movie is shot, but don’t use past movies to make that assumption.

Do you like super power movies? Then you’ll probably love this movie (unless the handheld camera thing gets to you).

Unless you hate teenagers. This movie is definitely about some teenager shit. [SPOILER] The teenagers happen to have “magical” powers bestowed upon them by a rock they found in tunnel in the forest. [/SPOILER], but they still have teenager mentalities. So, the way they act might throw you off if you hate the way teenagers act. Which is completely understandable. Teenagers are stupid. Or at least immature.

I personally don’t mind watching stupid/immature people do stuff. It generally leads to something entertaining (I just don’t want to be around them that much in real life). They certainly entertained me in this movie.

Also, there’s some emotional stuff going on in the movie, too. But what movie doesn’t have something emotional in it? How else are you supposed to care about what’s going on in the film?

[SPOILER] The main camera holder/character, Andrew, has a fucked up life. That’s established from the very beginning of the movie. His mom is sick, his dad is an alcoholic on disability that likes to physically (and, as a consequence of the physical, mentally) abuse his son when he’s drunk/upset). Andrew is basically the character that makes the movie go(od). [/SPOILER].

Wait. I forgot. I’m not writing an actual review.

Go watch this movie if you like comic book characters. Allow yourself to be dragged to this movie if you like movies that don’t have to be “realistic” to be entertaining.