I am going to do heroin this weekend I decided. I�ve been wanting to try it for a long time, so I decided I�m going to just do it. Actually, no, I�m not going to do heroin this weekend, but, I think I am going to continue this experiment of trying to mentally challenge myself (oh yeah, dream last night�very bizarre, I�m in the passengers seat of an ambulance, Stephanie is driving the ambulance very erratically around this city where a huge party is taking place in the streets, the city looks like San Francisco, a lot of hills, It seems like she�s trying to kill us�my alarm clock goes off, the ambulance ride with her ends. hmmm�Presley has a song called �Ambulance�, which is pretty much the same as that, I�m the driver though, same two people though), and physically challenge myself as well. Okay, let�s lift weights, do sit ups, and then smoke cigarettes, smoke marijuana, and sleep 3 hours a night, oh, and drink 5 cups of coffee a day. I kind of enjoy this downward spiral from time to time, as on the flipside I feel very positive and happy right now, so what the fuck? I have more positive energy than negative right now, so�It�s kind of a drag being surrounded by negative shit all the time. People taking themselves far too fucking seriously, and the general whining that goes into my ear canal on a regular basis is enough to make a man want to unabomb some motherfuckers.

you can take your �cute little raspberry pen� and stick it up your ass

so last night I hit two gigs. I have a ton of fucking work to do at work, that is due on Monday June the 24th, I have about 1/9 of it done. A smart man would not stay out until 3 in the morning hanging with dreadlocked freaks and doing whatever it is I do. One of the three guys (me included) got hit on last night. We got out of the 2nd show at 2AM, hungry, FUCKING hungry. The only place open, Hi Fi Pizza in Central Square. We pull up right in front to a semi big crowd. Inside it looked real crowded too. Upon closer inspection �hmmm why do all these guys have that same hairdo?� Once inside, hmmm, the women are wearing baseball hats, and they�re together. Oh, gay night at Man Ray must have just gotten out (which had me pose the question on the way home �when is it not Gay Night at Man Ray?�). So here we are completely surrounded by homosexuality, boys, and girls. Jason was wearing a shirt that had the initials FBC on it. He explained what it was to me earlier in the night, I didn�t remember or think he was serious, all I know was the B stood for �Bacon�. So this guy comes up and asks Jason what it stands for. He tells him, and then he lifts the back of Jason�s shirt up and says �Is that the bacon right there?� I was still a little high from earlier, but this was the funniest thing that happened. Jason replied �definitely not�. The guy had a sense of humor and walked away. Wow, the gay people are so fun!

For some reason, on my way home last night, I remembered the time I got hit by a car, and saw a woman�s vagina all in the span of an hour and a half. So I was 14 years old, a long haired little metal head in the 80�s riding a bicycle with no working brakes. Riding down the main street on the sidewalk in my shitty little ocean side town, all of a sudden, I�m about to go through a little intersection with big bushes blinding me from seeing any cars coming, and SMACK I hit this car coming out, I somehow get dragged, and my left arm is literally under the back tire of the car getting dragged for a few feet. Ouch. I get up, my bike is all bent, and two girls I know from school are walking by they ask me how I am. �I just got hit by a car, so, not that great I guess�. The woman eventually leaves after I realize it�s my fault, and there�s nothing really to do. This woman walks up, probably about 40 or so, kind of pretty in a Kim Basinger kind of way. Offers to take me up to her house to wash me, and give me a glass of lemonade. So I follow this woman up to her house on the hill and I sit on the porch. She brings out a cold rag, and some bandages and helps me out. Lemonade happens, and everyone�s cool. She starts talking to me sitting on the porch, when I notice that she has these really loose shorts on, and she�s sitting�with her legs not crossed. �My first real live vagina!� I think to myself. Of course, at 14 years old, a boy and a vagina are good friends, although they rarely meet, they are good friends. I eventually got on my bike, and made my way home, excited to call my friends about the woman with the lemonade and the vagina. the end.

I sort of don�t want to leave my house this weekend. It�s hot out, and it�s the first day of summer, but I feel lost out there now. I�m making a slight effort to lay off the pot for a bit here and there, as it makes me shy, reserved, insecure, low self esteemed, and generally not myself. Where I�ve done so much for so long, I hate to think that this is how I come off. Perhaps if people saw me sober more often, they would think differently. I am hyperactive when I don�t use any for a day or so. I act like I�m on drugs when I don�t use drugs, how silly is that? My ADD gets worse when I�m not high, which is strange to me as well.

you can tell me anything you want, but e actually listening, no, not happening. I rarely have cared less about others than I do right now. Sure I feel generally �up�, but then I also feel like I do too much listening, and not enough talking. I hate being a listener. Is this why I keep attracting manic depressed people all the time? Because I will listen. Maybe because I�m there too, I just haven�t bothered to have a doctor tell me what�s wrong with me. I�d rather not. I like to think as my guitar, or my stories, or whatever as a therapist. I can�t imagine talking this stuff out. �Really, I�m fucked up because my parents did tons of drugs around me, and I got touched by a relative where you shouldn�t be touched? Thanks, here�s your 300 bucks� I know a lot of stuff is my own doing, and why it�s there, so I don�t feel I need to �talk it out�. If this works for other people, fine, but I�m actually not really that depressed. I�m surrounded by depressed people at all times it seems, but in the scheme of things, I�m happy 90 % of the time. Letting things like money, or not meeting women, or missing ex-girlfriends, is such trivial crap that I can�t let it waste any time and space in my head. Some people can let this shit linger in their heads for a long time, but I like to get rid of it before it grows cob webs. Life is too long I think. These assholes that say life is short can suck my dick. Come on. Once you actually start realizing that worrying about what other people do, say, whatever is a useless thing, I think you achieve a little sanity. This is why these idiots like Marilyn Manson, or ANYONE actually write these songs about how bad people are, and how they can�t deal with people are so fucking stupid. Don�t think about people then! Why waste your fucking time thinking about people? It�s waste of energy, and unnecessary. The extent I spend thinking about people is this:

the guy that cuts me off in traffic � 10 minutes later, I don�t want to gut him in front of his wife with a butter knife

the hot girl on the street, or the hot girl introduced to me � I go home and jerk off and it�s over

the ex girlfriends that left me, friends that don�t call anymore � Next please

I don�t have the time to waste thinking about how miserable of a world we live in when I have so much more better things to think about. Let�s take all the miserable fucks and put them in a football stadium, get them jacked up on crystal meth and wild turkey, and let them sit there and bitch and complain. Here in the actual world though, I have no desire to listen to the drama anymore.

Now I�ll be called a hypocrite probably. What is with this word anyway? If someone makes a change for the better, why are they labeled a hypocrite? I�m not going to start screaming hypocrite at the moron in the kkk who changes his ways when he realizes how fucking dumb he is�you know what it doesn�t matter.

I want to go home, fuck.

before & after