Oh Joy!
2001-09-20 || afghanistan should not be bombed
I find it strange how short my attention span is nowadays. Music wise, news wise. I haven�t paid much attention to the news. I think initially I wanted to see carnage and dead people, and now that it�s all blown over (in my world), I haven�t paid attention. I still think it was an awful thing, but as far as I go, I�m not getting behind the rallying anymore. The country doesn�t seem like it�s explored any other avenues, so we are going to bomb the shit out of these people. And people are going to use the same tired excuse �an eye for an eye�. Give me a fucking break.

I guess I�ve been fascinated by violence all my life, probably from having a non-violent, not playing with toy guns and watching movies where people get killed upbringing. As I�ve gotten older now, I am fascinated with it. Murder, serial killers. �I would love to kill someone� I�d think to myself. So a couple years back, I took this road trip to see this rock group. I was in a state that will remain unnamed. I had a day off to do nothing really. My state of mind was not the best I guess. After going to see a shitty movie at the local mall, I took a drive and decided I would see if I could satisfy this strange urge I had inside myself. Why not? I was far away from home, I would be gone in the morning also. I drove about 75 miles from the hotel I was staying to be a little �safer� and started driving around this suburban area. I finally saw it, a man walking by himself, in a jogging suit, he looked about 40 years old. I drove by him and made eye contact with him and then turned my car around and stepped on the accelerator going towards him. He started yelling and putting his hands up, I swerved into him, missed him, and drove away. I figured if I got someone�s adrenaline rushing it would make the actual murder more intense. I parked the car on the side of the road up the street and started quietly walking behind him. We eventually got to a dark area, with some woods on the shoulder and I noticed a short, thick tree branch. I picked it up. I was about ten yards behind him now. He heard me and turned around. In this brief moment, I was in. I was joining the club now. I started running after him and finally caught up to him. He asked what I wanted from him, I told him I was sorry, and lifted the branch over my head. He fell to the ground quickly and started shaking and twitching. I�d never done this kind of thing, so I wasn�t sure if he would die or not. I hit him in the head again, and again. Now his head had split open and blood was coming out of his scalp as well as his mouth. I started running with the branch back to the car. I threw the branch in the trunk of my car and wrapped it in a newspaper I had. I had the branch with me for a couple of days after this, finally throwing it in a pond 300 miles away from the murder scene. That was the last time I really even thought about what I did until this morning. It;s funny how the feeling of guilt escapes me so easily.

before & after