Haze

Today I dreamed of sleeping. It was exhilarating. A cool rush of absolutely nothing flowing through my thoughts. No dreams, worries, cares, friendships, goals, or sadness. Just sleep.

Trying to figure out if I was actually alive when I woke up was interesting, to say the least.

I'm going to start taking pictures. Not because I feel like I want to be artsy or talented. I'm just too fucking lazy to keep describing things. That way, the only things I need to waste my time talking about are my actually thoughts, not descriptions or the shitty surroundings I've been placed in.

I saw Cindy only once today. It was in the morning. I looked like a washed up piece of shit. Her beauty is unmentionable.

Ambling Alp

This is day four of Iron Man II’s release. I’ve been working split shifts the entire weekend. My girlfriend is starting to become the absolute and only thing on my mind. Show times are starting to become memorized and the repeated steps of getting the films started have become a motor reflex. I’m looking back at the day and I can remember starting every movie, but when it comes to the steps, those fucking steps, the thread; it’s all a blur. Day by day, the only thing that seems to change is the number of cigarettes in my pack.

What to do? I have an enormous engineering project that my professor has been on my ass about that needs to be as close as can be to finished by Wednesday. I have prom on Saturday. I don’t have a tux, flowers, tie, or a fucking clue. Sunday is oddly my birthday. Will anyone remember? My girlfriend and family will, maybe a couple of friends. But will you? Oh humble reader, do you exist? Is there anyone reading this nonsense? Who can I even trust with this intimate web page where I regurgitate all my losses, wins, and worries? Four cigarettes in my pack, let’s see how far they get me.

“Come with me,
And you’ll be
In a world of Pure Imagination.”

It seems like Willy Wonka had it right. Fuck society. Just make candy and ruin the day of stuck up assholes. I wish I was even that motivated to go through with such an endeavor. I haven’t even repaired my drafting program or rented a tux for the dance I am attending with one of the only people on this earth I can honestly say I love. I get home and I go to sleep. When I wake, I head to the upstairs-back of a building that serves over-heated corn and has large displays of moving pictures in front of thousands of people. The pictures are accompanied by music or dialogue. These pictures have the power to provoke sadness, overwhelming joy, fear, and suspense. Meanwhile the lonely figure upstairs running the show is filled with apathy and boredom towards everything there are experience, and honestly wouldn’t give a shit if their little box went up in flames. I am that person.

Let me tell you the highlights of my weekend:

When I was out to get food one evening at work, I was served by a woman, around the age of thirty, at Chipotle. Her facial features seemed odd but I honestly don’t give a fuck. As she prepared my fresh salad with steak and a generous helping of guacamole, I noticed something; to be more specific, her 5’oclock shadow and Adam’s apple. Both which were superior to your humble narrator’s. One hell of a woman.

Yesterday a woman was choking in the hall between theaters three and four. She survived but there is no way I can describe the sheer excitement and adrenaline that rushed through my veins. For a moment, I had found something that broke down the walls of my self-prison of boredom and repetitive bullshit. The feeling was overwhelming. I fucking loved it.

Holy shit, you're reading this.

This blog is going to be the domain where I can shit out all the useless information I've gained about movies, music, work, girls, cigarettes, sex, and threading projectors. All names of people I interact with in my life will be changed, only to prevent their safety and sanity. If words such as: Pussy, Fuck, Cunt, Shit, Cock, Cum, Ass, Bitch, Bastard, Retard, Faggot, or Whore offend you, get the fuck out. So cheers, queers. Let's begin.

I'm just going to refer to myself as G. I'm dating C. She is a girl. I smoke regular American Spirits (The blue pack.) and spend most of my time hating everything. I currently work at an unnamed movie theater where I am held above all others as "The Projection Manager". *Strokes Cock*

Let me tell you about C.
I love her. She's on the the few things on earth I enjoy being around. I've been through so many stupid fucking relationships filled with "love" but it blows my fucking mind how I feel around her. Its completely indescribable. Now, before I start wearing heels and placing objects into my butthole, I digress.

Movies are brilliant to me. And I'm not talking about stupid fucking Tyler Perry's "I'm Black so You Should Feel Sorry for Me III : In 3D", I'm talking about actually directors. Antonio Campos, Gus Van Sant, Roman Polanski, David Lynch, Stanley Kubrick, Quentin Tarantino, Sam Rami ect... If you actually want to start a conversation with me, and you don't feel like getting dick-slapped after asking me if I've seen Step-Up 2, then at least act like you know who these men are.

I'm getting fucking tired. That's enough for tonight comrades.
Go fuck yourselves.