Tag Archives: blog



change is… what I’m doing for a second.

It’s okay. The page looks a little bit different.

Nothing is permanent; nor is it irreversible.

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So, I lied

It happens.

I guess one gets a taste of pseudo- audience and it’s hard to do this any other way. Not impossible. Not even nearly impossible. But “break-the-routine” hard.

I could write this as I wrote everything (on my computer/in a random notebook) with a fantastical notion that, one day, it will be read. This blog thing is like crack. …without the stringent physical side-effects. And without the stringent physical side effects, it’s harder to categorize and learn from. It’s harder to deem something “harmful”. It’s harder to stop and resume everyday life.

Well, anyway, I’m writing half-thoughts on this thing right now. That’s what’s happening. Whatever. We’ll forgo the Phil is dead thing because there’s nothing really to write there.


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The Swinging Moods of Schisty McSchisterton

I don’t know if there is supposed to be a “c” anywhere in that title… but…

…this is bullshit.

I tried it on. I did. but…

the blog (ing) thing…

I just…

it’s just…

….like meth.

But nowhere near as effective or awesomely fuckin’ ahhhhhh….

I think I gave it a chance. A sustained go-around. I don’t know. All of the sudden… it has re-become was it was. Not devolve… it’s not devolution, more… a realization of a freeze… or non-movement.

Or, better, lateral bend and jumps and squats…

I’ve been in the same mundane, retarded place for-ev-er!

Just the blinking lights in front of my face have changed in pattern, swirled a bit differently. so much so that it seems like growth.


Nietzsche would roll over in his grave.

So… game over.

Not that anyone reads this…. cares… or what-the-fuck-ever.

I censor when I need not censor because it’s in ‘public view’. What the fuck is that? That’s the anti- heal.

Information is key. Giving up information makes one weaker and weaker. Or so I abide.

So, I’m just going to get over that whole thing. Because no longer will I write anything that isn’t as accurate as it can be… as me as I’m able to distill.

Writing was my only pure form of expression… language… at certain points in life. And now I rape it with metaphysics… too many layers… too much. Rape it hard… so hard and so frequently that I feel that it’s okay and, more than okay… normal.

There’s something wrong with that.

I am doomed to continue this pattern of lateral mundanity.

Lets make the same mistakes over and over kiko!!!

Fuck that!

Later proverbial skater as the folks at 23rd street hang their hats.


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I don’t get it.

I don’t.

So, like… there’s (before the interweb-social-network-fuck) the concept and follow-through of creating a website for a your specific purpose. You’d have to learn HTML or have a crappy 2 dimensional website that gets lost in the mire or both. Or in the pre-latter years, a crudely functioning WYSIWYG-type interface. So, it’s easier. Whatever.

…still. One really needed to create said site. It was a whole new skill set to learn; to dedicate yourself to.

You have a ‘thing’… you want to create a website around said thing.

To jump or not to jump?

This used to be a question.

Not anymore.

Its just too easy now.

I’m not saying anything about anything. I mean, I have this blllll-ahhhh-g that’s monetarily free (sans domain name) on this widely used, weak blogging bullshit alternative to the sell-out ‘blogger’-blog (doggy-dogg… ha!) client. Like it’s okay that way.

I recognize my hypocrisy.

I’m just sayin’.

What the fuck is Twitter?

Alright. There’s creating a webpage… whatever. Then blogs/vlogs and/or social-networking arises… as does the nausea.

There’s MySpace…. for the obese tragic fourteen year old that hangs them self due to teasing from some supposed suburban boy, boy’s mother, neighbour, something… that she thought her boyfriend. He wrote really nice things, after all. And she was infatuated by words on a screen.

You know, instead of finding an exercise plan or, at the very least, eating disorder to soften the blow of existence.

“Way harsh, Ty”

Apologies. Really. I know, 14, 15… it’s hard… seriously…

…but virtual infatuation trumps actual disintegration in the land of denial and low self esteem…. apparently.

lazy. baby.

right here right now. now-now.

and more. and now and now and now.

Okay, and now: Facebook and MySpace is enough. Do we really need Twitter?

I mean, really?

Twitter is the electronic equivalent to the ADHD drugs (speed aka amphetamine salts… a younger, softer brother to the cracked ‘bennies’ used in the factory in the sixties… among other places… and among other analogues of amphetamine) that we readily dole out to our 6 year olds.

I mean, really?

Facebook… MySpace… kind of okay. But Twitter is every second… Twitter has people “follow” people and like-wise people “follow” you.

“I am a stalker…. Yay!”

Can no one just sit in silence for a second?

Again, being a non-meth-using-meth-addict (out of the woods for a staggering year and a half… I mean, if you can dig that)… I recognize the hypocrisy that runs through my veins.

Maybe I just don’t get it. But fuck it.

Like the short-attention-span drugs for developing brains are bad enough. Worse, maybe. But maybe not.

Because, maybe ‘human problem solving’ has reached a place where, although the aforementioned ADHD drugs are ‘prescribed’ by a ‘doctor’… through laconic desperation and the quick-fix of the American-Way the majority of parents actually recognize that the pills they administer their children are amphetamine; the Schedule II drug that they are.

And following this back-of-head recognition, they realize that they are making a choice. They realize that they can give their child speed or not.

I mean, this is all covered in a Myelin Sheath (some call it denial) of ‘medical prescription’.

But, I’d think, for the most part, there is a part of people that actually understand… because ‘medical prescription’ can only go so far as time stretches an epidemic of sorts.

Invidiously, it’s a drug. A controlled substance, at that. And invidiously you choose to or choose not to give it to your child… knowing exactly what it is. Whether it’s sanctioned by the FDA or DSM or APA or NSA…

And that’s the thing: one can update their status on Facebook. One can update their status on Facebook every hour, every minute, every second. One can be a Facebook WHORE! But you’re a whore in a larger sea of things that are going on.

People don’t have Twitter pages. They just have their crack-whore updates.

Again, I may not really ‘get’ Twitter… but it seems like crack.

…that homeless black people smoke out of pipes in the alleyways of New York in the eighties.

And So (because I can only understand things in stimulant drug metaphors):

A created website = Methamphetamine or one of it’s long-acting brethren

Facebook/MySpace = Adderall or Ritalin or the latest dirty speed pill for kids

Twitter = Crack; homeless, urine-smelling, rock-buying crack-addict-crack

But the thing is that, it’s too soon for the public to recognize this fact. Delineate. It’s all the same. It’s nihilism.

But just like the prescription speed epidemic… people will sense it in the back of their heads in a year or so and, only then, be responsible for their Twitter updates.



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