My art teacher once said to me write what comes to mind it sounded so simple but when I started to look at it, the whole world suddenly started to make a lot of sense. It was one of those light bulb moments, something inside of me just said that I must do it I can’t really explain something that comes from inside of me…cos that would sound weird but it happened I was in a art lecture. Brushes buldged out of immature vases colour clothed the creases of the room and I was writing
Yeah I felt like a dumb shit doing that since everyone else was busy doing their bit for mankind and painting beautiful little pictures of flowers and other kinds of things…but I wanted to write. I wanted to write so badly that I didn’t really let much stop me. If some one did stop me it was most probably someone trying to cause shit with me…like a thug flushing my head down the toilet or squirting shaving cream in my books. Life was hard
Life was hard being in school I’m older now…too fucking old for that matter, but school seriously bored me to tears, and burnt me at that same time. I’ve always heard some loser old person saying that I should enjoy school for it will be the best day of my life…well I think that is a load of crap. You know I call that puppies in the snow mentality…it wishing for something better. Hoping that things will be alright at the end of the day and everyone will kiss and make up and live happily ever after in a glorious paradise.
Sometimes I just want to say to those old dudes…get your head out of the fucking sand and just please be a tiny bit positive. I know I do bitch and moan about every god damn thing out there. Its my calling. I’m A CYNIC and born to be one who gets around, and copes with life despite how fucking useless it all seems to be………………..
So I’m in this art place…my weird teacher telling me to write. Don’t get me wrong I don’t have any bad feelings towards that crazy lady, but I was writing so much back then cause I was so fucking happy. I was so glad not to be looked at in a weird way and called into question. Sometimes I think that people put too much pressure on people as contradictory as it sounds. Put it this way…lets throw in a massive word like society…and say that capital S puts too much pressure on people. Society throws us into a spin we can’t escape.
- It tells us to go out in the world and become successful
- It says that we have to keep studying stuff
- We still have to stay good people and stick to the law
- We have to clean up everyone else’s shit (or suffer because of it)
- We have to listen to a million religions telling us the way that everything should be and if it isn’t that way then we’re all going to suffer and burn for ever or become morphed into a sound bite sized mosquito. Btw don’t get me started on hell…that’s one of my huge hobby horses and I think I’ve just about run that one into the ground by now.
- Society tells us to earn money…yeah well what the problem you might ask? The problem is its hard work. I’m working at the pizza house doing the dirty work and listening to everyone bitch about how awful everything is. Yes this means I’m a shit-scooper who wants to rather create my own instead of sweeping up another capital S.
- Society says we should pollute the earth. Yeah because I like arguing I thought that I would take this one up. I’ll start it off slow. Firstly we buy groceries that should be bought because they are essential (i.e. milk carton). Now this precious little milk carton gets devoured within a few days. We’ll assume that this an average family that is not environmentally conscious and therefore our little milk carton gets thrown into a small little packet with everything else. I think I’ll take a momentary pause and personify the milk carton by calling him Bill…So bill dies. He gets all of his bodily fluids sucked out of him. Although this is a painfully slow process, since the process is gradual. Despite the insufferable pain he experiences Bill feels content to know that he is used for everything. Bill had a very unfortunate reincarnation but he learnt that if there is one enjoyment in life it is knowing someone is getting pleasure out of your pain and you are useful to them. So Bill is in his final days. Back in his youth (operating on about 80% of his body) he was delighted, and feeling stronger than any culture. But now there was a feeling…it felt even more scary than reincarnation. Maybe people up in death row knew. Whenever he was handled he rang with noise on the inside. Bill was counting down minutes now. The noise became so chilling that even once back on the shelf…Bill took a while to quieten down and try very hard not to wet his pants. Just like the emptiness builds inside from being used…well so did the noise. For the first few minutes after the fucking four year old put him back. He settled, but then people seemed addicted to a hollow person, and wanted to engage more despite his efforts to look as crinkled and abandoned as possible. Bill finally did wet his pants. The last moments became such dragged-out distortion that he thought he’d wet everything except the bin. That was full of old molded rotting souls all clasped collectively. Bills body was never recovered from the scene. Through decades of decay, ravaged by dogs and broken beggars. All that was left was a small strip of red fibre. A piece from his cap they say it was. Lying limp and stiff by a concrete mixer…waiting to be seen again.
- Pollution seriously sucks 😛
- People don’t like to acknowledge the dead. Lets face it Death is a taboo word that all the wrinklies avoid like the plague. Well, except when they have to and talk about how honorable someone.
- Sex is overrated. Well look I’m not saying that I want to stop fucking, but capital S tells men to buy things with a naked virgin on. Don’t get me wrong I like my porn, but not that shit you see in the shop…the way is draws you in, commands your balls, and tells your wallet to do the talking.
Well theres my ten commandments, lol. I fucking love getting angry about everything, but for the simple sanity of those reading I thought that I’d make it succinct and easy to read. The fact of the matter is I’m fascinated with death and love things to get worse and go wrong. But that’s another story for another time and place…