I like a girl. she's not normally my type, personality wise or physically.
hurm. the feelings are indeed, confusing. I think it lies in some deep routed Celtic cultural thing.

'you are Celt. you are either from Ireland, Scotland, or wales.': Ireland.
'you like axes and weaponry of most sorts': true.
'you have a mild distrust of the English and a great distrust of the french' Very true.
'you wish to grow a mustache' always have done
'you fantasise about hunting, and providing in a simple woodsman way' aye.

'you think poetry is masculine' IT IS!

'you should therefore provide to the cultural type of Irish/Celt woman, compactly built, christian values, pale skin, red hair.' fair enough.

and there we go, on its most basic level, when I see her, my ancestry kicks into action and I want to whisk her away to a wood cabin. Sigh.

the blog'll get better to be sure

you know that feeling when a ginger girl walks into the chain book store your browsing in a Thurrock shopping centre and you pray to god for her to bump into, or step on your foot, or go for the same book so you have an excuse to have a conversation, take her to the coffee shop, learn more about her, sense an inbuilt connection, make out in the corner of a crappy clothing store and share contact addresses, or is that just me?

will better blog get.

I love goth girls. I've realised this has dictated quite a few choices in my life. Pale skin, Dark hair, Black clothes. I love it. The sexiest Cartoon character that isn't Dr.girlfriend is shego from Kim Possible. but, I'll be a bit more specific, PVC/leather/rave goth girls aren't for me, I like the romantic types. what does this have to do with anything? nothing. But you should know, because I'm feeling very lonely today. and the obvious solution to this is a mindless relationship.

I think so many thoughts that would be more blog worthy, but this is the one I typed.

the blog will get better.

I swore to god...

I'd go back here. and I have. like you fucking missed me.

hey, guess what? I'm still angry as hell.

I still hate you. I hate the clothes you wear and the decisions you make too. And I hate that you don't know who that is. I ain't gonna tell you.

FUCK YOU, YOU GET BETTER.

Today... is Christmas! There will be a magic show at zero-nine-thirty! Chaplain Charlie will tell you about how the free world will conquer Communism with the aid of God and a few Marines! God has a hard-on for Marines because we kill everything we see! He plays His games, we play ours! To show our appreciation for so much power, we keep heaven packed with fresh souls! God was here before the Marine Corps! So you can give your heart to Jesus, but your ass belongs to the Corps! Do you ladies understand?

President Obama.‏

ok, credit where credit is due, that was an impressively crafted speech. and though it might be mundane to the real world in which we live with the issues, for an inauguration speech it managed to actually push some boundaries by actually placing the blame with the American government and even more unconventionally the American public. 'We understand that greatness is never a given, it must be earned' is refreshing compared to the republican "why do you hate America, Communist?" we have lived with for eight years even if this speech still dissolved into trademark American Schultz. everyone with half a mind knows that without a strict reform the American governmental process will never deliver anything. and the reform really isn't coming. the most I could ever hope for from Obama is that he manages to make a more centric American society that doesn't have time to fuck anything else up. y'know, like a real democrat. my friend Arien over at his blog http://arien617.blogspot.com/ has little to no hope for Obama at all. fair enough I say. I find my self putting a molecular bit of trust in a president a dirty, foolish feeling. but Arien seems to hold the CIA as behind this. the same CIA that couldn't cover up a semen soaked dress or Watergate? and I don't think the CIA will work that hard for a black guy from Hawaii who is a democrat. hell, he might get killed, that'll definitely send some shockwaves of Democratic feeling for once. or twice ,(1865) or thrice (1963).


the blog will get better, America however.....

well, I'm an arsehole. yeah, yeah I can hear you "we already knew that!" but specifically, I'm an arsehole.

went to party,
got drunk,
got happy,
danced like a wanker,
got sober,
got mean,
took everything the wrong way,
did something rash
annoyed someone I like
went and fell asleep in the bathtub
left without saying goodbye.
passed out with my book on my face in bed.
woke again at 4:32 with the unmissable emptiness of guilt.
inconsequential morning activities,
this blog.
this list.
apologies.








the blog will get better, but I don't know as a human, if I can