The St. Valentine's day Delusion

I bit my lip today. it taste like a penny. It bled. I made it bleed a little more profoundly then it would have naturally by sucking deeply with my lips sealed. I tried to create the St. Valentine's day massacre in my mouth. When I revealed the swirly, crimson froth to myself in the mirror, I was ... eh. It didn't have the resonance it should have. Not physically, definitely not emotionally. I was wondering what it would look like if I were in a mouth accident. Hopefully this curiosity isn't a trend that spreads elsewhere on my body. Though I do pick my scabs.

Richard Dawkins is an atheist who believes that most of the evil in the world is a direct result of religion. He has stated in his book "The God Delusion" that he doubts an atheist would ever revolt violently. Tell that to Stalin, tell that to the French revolution, tell that to the trench coat mafia. The rest of his waterhead polemic isn't anymore researched.

I've reached a limit in my tolerance for everything involved in blogging early tonight. I thought I could make it happen but I didn't. Sorry Ben and other reader.

Contemplating in Stereo Pt 2 version 1

The other Lobe.

First off the new Radiohead album matters. Its that good. I am looking forward to knew music I can care about. Notice I said "Knew". Notice, but don't think. It's an empty shell of a post ironic raised eyebrow. If you think about it you will not just be disappointed but also caught in a exponential whirlpool of literary boredom. You may never read anything again.

Moving On. I am feeling less important than ever. I believe every negative word and gesture ever directed at me and I harbor those in my selective memory banks only to be released in a stream of heavy lead. I had a bad day.

And now for something completely misspelled. sikology. And now a bad habit. Sentence fragments.

I wish I could elaborate on my bad day, but I don't believe in Genies, so I'll pray. I do believe in God. Jehovah that is. The God of the Christians and Jews. I asked him into my heart when I was five. I didn't even scream. Not that I should have, just to clarify. I hope I will succeed one day, but I think I am weak. A little nugget of self pity.

I am going to type a bad word now... ... ... Nevermind.

Contemplating in Stereo Pt. 1

I just measured my facial features and discovered that besides a slightly slouching eye, I am symmetrical. According to something that I once watched with someone that said something, I am attractive. This is the break that I've been waiting for for at least a long time. Now I can show off my handsomeness and not be ashamed at how aggressively pensive or deliberately unqualified I've ever felt at "hot people" parties. I think I'm going to apply for a Hollywood movie, like a sports dramedy or a romantic thriller with Beverly D'angelo and Meredith Baxter Berny. Yes sir I'm on my way to the golden globes.

What I plan on doing in moments from when I'm done doing this

Ah, Halloween. What a time. You know, costumes, candy corn, candy, corn. I love it. I always have to have a plan though. Like a plan on how to make whatever year I am making those plans, the best Halloween of all time... for me. Usually I can't drink, but being unemployed I am doing the ole' box wine deal. Throw in a little tea light candles, a couple dozen strategically placed like I'm on an Elvira set...

I'm watching "The Ghost of Frankenstein" tonight. It's not that good. I love movies that are not that good. Watching a good movie can be no better than the quality of the movie in general. Usually good. Watching a not so good movie though, can be sublime. The reason being is that not so good movies make you reflect more on your surroundings, you tend not to even watch the material so much as absorb it. If your buzzed and surrounded by tea lights, a poor movie becomes a good friend. Like a friend that you know is a little stupid but is so nonthreatening that you let your guard down. Halloween should not be a challenge. That's why I only watch sub-par movies.

I don't do gore either. It's not that it scares me, it doesn't. Gore is just too clinical. I've seen surgeries on TV and junk, you know. Science. Muscle and tendons and flesh and the tearing of it and the screaming and pain. I don't see the aesthetic. It sets a bad tone. It's not scary either. Its cheap. Its shameful. It's like a Hooker who can't control her sphincter muscles. There's no thrill and it dosen't look or feel good. Its just that you have to look at it and gape back I assume. ASSume... hah.

For me, I like the pagentry and the camp. The Atmosphere is the key. Fog, dim lights, crooked trees, thats atmosphere. The content is less important. With tea lights and a box of wine I can't handle content.

Here is where I am at the time

Dear Diary,
I wonder if there was any woman on earth at any point in time named Diary. Should I have used a question mark after that sentence? I knew that I should have used one there, which I did. To wonder though, is that a question? I think its questioning, its like the act of it anyway. Screw it I'm starting over.
I am going, what old people fond of "sayings" would call, "stir crazy". I am unemployed and very, very intelligent. Forget I said intelligent, I meant to say frustrated. I said intelligent because I have convinced myself that I need to be more positive. But being positive in spite of the situation seems inhibiting. That is, I need to vent, creatively. I need some sort of catharsis which doesn't exist in positive thinking. I read that all good art is created in discontent. I don't really agree with that unless I'm forcing myself to think positive under negative circumstances.
I am married with a child on the way. It's great. It is a lot to worry about. I am spinning in circles trying to get a hold of the brass ring of organization. you get the imagery right? The brass ring on the carousel and whatever. I realize that was pathetic but I'm in a bathrobe at 3:45 in the afternoon. How the hell will I ever be a good provider for my family in a bathrobe. Bathrobes are a very sad instrument of self pity. You can not be your most effective in any format while in a bathrobe. In fact, I'm sure that if I were not wearing this lousy towel with a belt that this blog would be far more readable.
I'm the kind of person that needs to make something. You know, like art. But I hate saying its art because I hate people that automatically consider some sort of marginal output "art". Like a cake decorator referring to his pastry as "art". Art needs to be transcendent of the medium. No sir that is a cake, it is made for consumption, you went to culinary school, it is a cake. I went to art school, I make pretentious crap, it is art. Its a metaphysical equation, like the one that equals happiness or unity or in some countries, recreational fasting. I really don't know what any of that means by the way.
That is an overview of right this very moment of where I am at the time. It will change and I will write about it. But I really had no fun doing this.