Saturday, April 23, 2011

This is not about ejaculate.

Sorry I haven't been as consistent with writing as of late. Material hasn't been coming through. Mostly because instead of lolz, I've been waxing philosophically about myself.

I put on my leather jacket the other day, adorned in pins that I believe represent some amount of my thought process. Since I brought it, it's become a sort of trademark of mine.

And I felt wrong. A sort of odd disgust happened when my arms slipped into the sleeves and it gripped my shoulders. It felt wrong.

I'm also dealing with situations that thrust me into worlds I've never delved in, namely being a leader. Leading I can do well. Feeling comfortable doing so is another issue entirely. Why?

The cynicism I apply to myself, a clever ruse to both maintain self-awareness and provide a humble foil against my naturally pretentious style of speaking (Like right now), has started working against me. It's bumming me the fuck out. Instead of certifying that my own faux-narcissism doesn't destroy me, like a cancer, it's defected against me. Unable to keep control, I ravage myself in moments where it was not required. Leaving me feeling like a failure in situations where there was no success to be had. Like losing a race that never happened.

And so as I lead, or even as I do anything I've never done before, I destroy myself for understandable errors.

And when I do succeed, I don't allow myself to enjoy it. Which means when I rarely do, I don't know how to properly do so, and end up alienating everyone when I sound like an arrogant ass.

In an effort to salvage what little self-esteem I have left (And, in the future, properly perceive success and failure), my psychology has opted to temporarily avoid the levity of humor and seek actual building blocks for confidence, instead of painting ridiculous caricatures of it to contrast the grotesque moments of self-doubt. This requires that I avoid practicing cynicism. And what is this blog, at its heart, if it isn't a picture of toothy-smiled cynicism?

We'll pretend like this never happened in the next blog. Well, no. But we'll get back to poetically denouncing the injustices of sperm during nutbustings. Eventually.


Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Poetry for the Fallen

Inflammatory
The 6 million cried
Group divided by simple primal binds

Of psychology, atrocity, it was
The thing that bothered me
To do so so wantonly
Was a saddening dichotomy

So traveled the hand
That waived off their demands
And jettisoned the group with no remorse
And vicious plans

Inflammatory
The 6 million cried
This is a poem about ejaculating guys

Friday, April 15, 2011

A Detailed and Critical Analysis of Bob Dylan

Having recently delved into the world of Bob Dylan's music, I decided to take a brief look at the lyrics and found myself feeling as though I'd absorbed more information than I'd read. I decided to speculate even more so on the lyrics of "Mr. Tambourine Man", and found myself in awe of my discovery, during the first verse through to the second:


Though I know that evenin’s empire has returned into sand
Vanished from my hand
Left me blindly here to stand but still not sleeping
My weariness amazes me, I’m branded on my feet...

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to

Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin’ ship
My senses have been stripped, my hands can’t feel to grip
My toes too numb to step
Wait only for my boot heels to be wanderin’
I’m ready to go anywhere, I’m ready for to fade
Into my own parade, cast your dancing spell my way
I promise to go under it



Fascinating.

Friday, April 8, 2011

Pledge of A-Scene-Giance.

I brought those glasses.


Proudly.

But Juno does not speak to my life.


Or any Dominican's, for that matter.

Scott Pilgrim does though.


Annnd my Dominican license has been revoked.

But I like my music with raucous energy.


What hipster songs are recorded with.

And I like bleeding on my drums.


This is not crayola.

But I do have a tumblr.


Fuuuuuuuuu--

But I don't post skinny scene whores.


WowI'veneverseenthoseglassesbeforewhere'dyougetthem.

But I do think Zooey Deschanel is cute.


Goddamnit.

But how could you not?


Seriously.

I fluctuate between diametric sub-cultures. This could only mean I align myself with one, very specific group.

Me.


I don't think "douche" is a sub-genre.

But I'm happy like that.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Offensive Tumblr Remarks Incite Toilet Paper Revolt

05 Apr 2011 16:39
Source: Reuters // Reuters*

Toilet papers, outraged by satirist and all-around hipster douchebag MrIndieDay's tumblr. post, have protested en masse on the streets of Newark, NJ.

"I'm not sure what happened," said MrIndieDay in an interview via satellite, "seeing as the tumblr thing was just a joke. I make the post, walk into my bathroom, and there they were. Or weren't."

The toilet paper has apparently upped and marched out in the wake of MrIndieDay's comments, not long after he decided to actually utilize the toilet paper.

"It's out of spite and nothing more. I know it."

The toilet paper organization, better known as Charmin, has fired back at the 20 year old humorist in an official statement.

"We do not take our use lightly. We strive to supersede the second-class mark that has been branded on us. To be more than the years of oppression and attempts to wipe us out. We take pride in our recent streak of successful paper integration, and seek equality among our lined brethren in the world of paper-usage. MrIndieDay has opposed these efforts, and we will not tolerate his tarnishing our cotton-white facade."

This recent revolt is in lieu of previous toilet paper abuses, namely the damaging "Coffee and Pizza" catastrophe, which Charmin has described to be "our own Holocaust."

"The coffee and pizza thing was brutal, as I understand it," says MrIndieDay, "but that doesn't mean later toilet paper mentioning need to be viewed under such harsh scrutiny."

Expressing his disdain, he later added "You just can't take shit so seriously nowadays."

Charmin continues to march up and down the streets of North Newark, seeking to further its civil rights cause.

"Joke or not", a Charmin representative stated, "we will not let him stain us."

(Additional reporting by Scott Bounty, Brawny Cottonelle, and Angel "Soft" Viva)