He Was Better Last Year I Think

It's been almost a month since my last post. I feel like an unfaithful lover, one that actually cares about the person he's cheating on. The guilt is overwhelming. However, like many scoundrels who feel remorse, I will more than likely not do anything about it at this moment in time. Darling forgive me, but I do not have the strength to change right now. I know it is hard to understand but it is the truth, and sometimes dear friends, the truth sounds fuckin' stupid.

I am just writing right now in order to let you know this. If you are anything like me you absolutely hate the uncertainty.

On a lighter note, I have decided to kill myself. I think I have already said this, but I wanted to rededicate myself to taking my ultimate destiny in my own hands, unless the women of the Keller knitting club actually come through on their promise to destroy me. Maybe the gypsy will be right after all.

Hold on, I must post an offensive picture, I do not want anyone having any sympathetic feeling toward me. I am a scoundrel of the highest order, I cannot be trusted with firewood and I do not mix well with the general public. I have a uranium heart.

Greek Fire And Snow White Skin

The air is cooling and the dark flesh of the night is stretching across the sky. Below me is a small group of flies that made dared pester me, their corpses are now being investigated by a group of fire ants who agreed several days ago to leave me alone in exchange for my sparing their Queen. And aside from these corpses, life blooms all around me.
It is almost my birthday and once again I am genuinely surprised that I have lived another year. I thought by now one of the people who vowed to kill me would have actually come through, or at least some sort of disease or cranium growth. Well, the angel of death must need glasses because here I am, still breathing fire and still plotting things that will leave broken bodies and minds behind me as I pursue a life worth living.

There is work to be done old bean. You've got mental and physical renovations to attend to, time to turn that shanty you call an existence back into a marble palace with nude statues in the bathroom. You can do it. You have to do it.

...FUCK!

I wan't to write candidly but that is not the purpose of an online word depository. If any of the 2 people who read this thing found out I've got a mild case of 'emotions' then snake crawling across the floor would start laughing at me. Holy shit there's a snake on the floor... beautiful. Anyway, I forgot what I was talking about so I will jump straight into talking about things that I will regret.

Chapter 1: The Quickening
I've had the same similar dream for the past few days. In each one there is either the same person or the thoughts or pursuit of that person. Luckily that person is a woman, if it were a man I'd have to resign myself to becoming a homosexual and then I'd have to develop a fashion sense that extends beyond blue jeans and black shirts. But at least I'd get to be FABULOUS! I wonder what it means to have recurring dreams. After consulting the guy next door who was carrying the couch by himself, the recurring dreams could mean the following (which are also graded on scale of 'OH SHIT-ness.')

1. The tumor in my brain has become spiteful and has decided to replace the nightmares with tantalizingly pleasant dreams. (Moderately bad)

2. It's a side effect of losing my memory. (Bad)

3. My subconcious is experiencing some kind of 'Groundhog Day' symptom where everything is repeated... kind of. (Awesome cause then I'd have a reason to ask Bill Murray for advice)

4. I have fallen for the woman and the dreams are a way of reminding me that despite how mad I would be for her, things simply would not go my way. (Painful, but it would be nice to know even my dreams have a sense of humor)

5. It's a side effect of my losing my memory. (Bad)

6. That the world truly will end during my being around this person. (Good, because now I know how to bring about the end of humanity, then when aliens arrive they will not have to deal with my neighbor's face)

Like the tumor, I imgaine that the problem will be solved by giving it time, so I will wait this out and almost assuredly things will get worse. But maybe they will get better.

Reclusive Stamps and a Preoccupied Mind

A small adhesive square is all I needed.

DENIED KEEPS FLASHING OVER MY HEAD! I know I'm not the only one who can see that, it's making my hair fizzy and my rage swollen and volatile. How in steel plated hell could I have failed in getting a fucking stamp.

As to the flashing words over my head, I blame the got-dam Japanese for their poisoning us all with mercury. In a few moments I'll go blind and deaf but luckily for me I have already been training a seeing eye lizard which exudes deadly poison from it's skin. Her name is Pathfinder and she knows nothing of mercy, but quite a bit about how to get to the liquor store.

Dear diary,

I find myself thinking about that thing that isn't alcohol, no, I'm thinking about a certain someone and have been doing so since I had a strange dream about them. What is universe trying to tell me... No messages in the clouds today. The grass in the yard is still talking about how much better it must be in the neighbor's yard. The birds are preparing an assault on the bees in retaliation for that vicious rape and I'm getting no transmisions on my one way cosmic radio.

In fact, I'm thinking about them so much that perhaps I shouldn't be writing in case I expose myself as a human being rather than a vengeful spirit that learned how to use a keyboard and internet.

Still though...