Sunday, May 16, 2010

"An extraordinary life would suck just as much as an average one."

I am a good person. I care and listen and will be there for half the people I know. The other half I will abandon and neglect and hurt when they need to be loved most.


I whipped many people, and was whipped by two different whips within 24 hours. They were right, these things are weapons.

I bought my own whip, with friends who were arguing in the store.
We were obviously not displaying any respect or knowledge equestrians have:

"Are those saddles free?"
"No, they're not!"
"But they're outside! In a bucket!"

"Look at this red hat! It says '50!' Is this $.50 or $50."
"It's $50!"
"Oh, that's a lot for a hat... It must be the best hat in the world."

By this time, I decided to buy the riding crop for $7.75, and get the hell out of there.

Ah, leather.

Somehow, my friends and I ended up dressing ridiculously and screaming in the forest while being video taped.

After the taping, we beaner-packed my friend's car.

We approached a Dominos. One I had not been to since the summer.

Cramming six people into a small area while screaming the value deals did not look very entertaining to the five men behind the counter. We did have money, and money is the paper which allows us to tolerate one another.

I have been told by other Saints, but I had never seen it. My temporary domme has a pentacle carved around her stomach. She told me a story of how she cut it, and how painful showers were after the carving. It is still nicely scarred after two years.

We went into a parking structure with our pizza. We sat at the corner, near anti freeze and a staircase. We all ate the burning food while telling stories. I imagine that someday soon, if the Saints are ever squatters and vagrants, we can survive very easily on the diet we have.

Somehow, I found myself at a cancer fundraiser with Saints.

I saw many people there I knew.

I had a friend there, though. I held her hand and put my arm around her and talked with her. I'm not dating her, but we're good friends. I haven't felt any remote connection like this in months. I understand why people date, now. It was one of the nicest feelings I've had this year.

I heard the list of the local people who had died from cancer. One name sounded familiar, but I won't ask about it.

It's strange to watch a massive group carry candles around in a circle. Diseases and death grow a strong resistance.

Being remembered is likely to be one of the worst concerns anyone should worry about. You won't be remembered for very long, so don't worry about it. It's all trivial, everything has been said and done before. You're a collection of a stunted culture and so will the next generation, and any attempt to rise above with some sort of half-assed philosophy is virtually pointless.


That doesn't mean we can't have fun. 

This week looks as frantic as the every other week in my life. I'll probably stress out over things I can do but have no desire to do, violate and let others violate me, and not get very much sleep. Every moment before the deadline is complete serenity and every moment after the penalty scolding is complete bliss. As long as I know which direction I am heading toward, I will (try to) remain calm.

I was thinking about how everything would change if I killed myself. Do any of you wonder about that?

I hope that if I die before any of you, you laugh at the ridiculous way I died.
My friend told me that he wouldn't know whether to laugh or cry, so I think you should all laugh first.

I'll probably die through a fail attempt of auto-erotic asphyxiation. I'll be as well hung from the ceiling as I am now.

If that didn't make you smile, you're the fucked up one.

I know that if not now, then sometime this century, a person will find my blog and want to meet me.


Is it weird to fantasize about a girl, lose interest, and start fantasizing about her brother? I'm into bondage, know very sketchy people, and worship the devil, bisexuality must not be a stranger to such people.

That's it. I'll die in a massive orgy, hung from the ceiling, and have a man and women swinging from my legs. I'll be a corpse-like chandelier. Play some Stray Cats to that and you'll have yourself a dark comedy.

What a friend pointed out to me was that for a girl to be a good singer, she must have a high voice. She doesn't believe this, but the vast majority of people do. The ones who control radio stations.

One day, I won't be in theses situations anymore. I won't be apathetic and I'll smile a lot more, before I crawl up in a corner and die. I hope you're all there.

Stza: You mean the female. Or like the equestrian species? He's like the equestrian species, they show up on dry land and you're like, "Oh my god, bow down" and then they cut off your head. I'm talking about horses man. Fucking horses.
Ezra: Indigenous quadrupeds.
Stza: They scare me to death. No they don't. I just don't think people should ride them. It's like, you know, that hurts. It's gotta hurt, someone on your back all day.
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