Do I dare revert to an old style of blogging, and say any and ALL of what has been on my mind?
Do I dare do this, and open myself to the great and entirely way too possible bad repercussions of this action?
...
Naw. Not tonight. I'm to tired and'll screw it up even worse. I might do it soon tho.
Instead, I think I would much rather take you on a journey I have found myself taking lately. And this starts with something which I think is neat, and yet can be rather disturbing.
The song "Ring around the Rosie" is about the Black Death.
Did a memory from your childhood suddenly become a chill in your spine? Welcome to my world. (Well, not really. I learned this fact when I was a child, so it all kinda feels like a warm and fuzzy memory...the song and knowledge, not the plauge.) I've found lately that as I am growing older many things I knew about my past are turning out to be much less innocent then I originally considered them to be.
"Semi-Charmed Life" by Third Eye Blind was always one of my favorite songs. I always remembered it for the "Do-doot-doot! Doot do-doot do-doot!". It wasn't till much later on that I even noticed the lyric "You’re the priestess, I must confess / Those little red panties they pass the test / Slide up around the belly, face down on the mattress".
Outlaw Star, Gundam Wing, and Sailor Moon were all these animes from my past (just cartoons back then, before "anime" had any meaning to me...) which had this very mystical and ultimate feeling to them. now I find that GW and SM both kinda...suck...a lot more then I remember at least, and OS is still good, but I find that the main character is so much more a pervert then he ever was in my memory! (Thank Cartoon network censors for that...)
And worse then that, I'm rather astonished to become aware of how many memories I find myself taking a part in destroying! Wether it be forming sore spots around activities enjoyed with a long past love, or taking a lost favorite food from youth, and putting it to use in a new form, much MUCH unthought of by the little kid in the candy shop.
Well, I guess this is growing up.
...
Damn you, Blink 182!!!
F*R*A*G: This is a fair warning: Stop what you're doing or I will molest you.
He's got a gun! Finally! A Final Fantasy game I can make it to the end of!
DAMNIT THAT WAS A LONG, BORING ASS BOOK!!!
In Cold Blood, by Truman Capote. I'm actually not gonna write to ca'pooty and give him one of those
Dear Mr. Cupppitty,
If I ever meet you, I'm going to smack you.
Love, Nick.
because it wasn't that kind of book. It was a book which...I suppose was worthy of...whatever the hell it was that it got. BUT. He has a knack for going into details at odd moments, for too long, and then manage to finish these detailed deviations without actually mentioning anything of worth, either to the story, or even in general. Maybe as far as characters are concerned, but only as far as Perry. Everyone else was "A great guy/gal from a small town who was repulsed at the murder of the Clutters / messed up in the head / killed."
Hehe..."but"...
Either way, I don't think Truman Capotlofloflofkenstan is that good of a writer. He was just crazy enough to write a book about a touchy subject, and eventually get around to some emotion jerking scenes, from real people no less. I'll admit to good book, but not good writer. And even at that, I don't think I ever could have finished it if it weren't for the fact that, with summer slowly dwindling and school approaching yet again, I am severly behind on my summer reading assginment. I mean, I'm thchnically still reading at least 5 other books, but Cold Blood is one that I wouldn't even bother putting back on my bookshelf after finding it at the bottom of some random box a year from now. That's right. The entire box exists one year from now. But I find it in 6 months from now. Take that, continunity of time!
Plus I'm thinking that the written part of the summer assginment is a crock anyhow. We have to say how we relate to the book. The book is about the brutal murder of a family of four in Kansas in 1959.
::Beat: Waiting for at least two things wrong with that situation to come to light in your brain.::
Way I figure it, it must be a test. Anyone who manages to write more then a page on this subject is imedeately escorted down to the school psycharist's office. It actually seems a lot like another simple sanity test that my Norwegian acquantince was describing to me just the other day:
"The subject is brought before a bathtub, and watched as the bathub is filled up. Once the bath is full, the subject is presented a bucket, a spoon, and a thimble, and then is asked to empty the tub."
"Ohhh...and if they're sane, they'll use the bucket because it's bigger then the other two..."
"...Nnnooooo...if they're sane, they'll pull the drain plug."
This encounter reveled absolutely nothing new about my person to anyone.
Even though I though the book to be mostly more strugle to read then it was worth, I did find one thing of interest. ::grabs book and flips through pages, looking for a certain passage:: A ha! Here it is.
On page 322, we are introduced to two young men: George Ronald York, and James Douglas Latham. At 18 and 19 respoctively, the passage goes on to reveal how they went on a killing spree of 7 people on their way across these United States. Later, after their capture in Utah after the murders, a local channel was allowed to film an interview with the two young men. When asked why they did what they did, they replied simply, "We hate the world."
Although minor characters as far as the novel is concerned (granted, the majority of the major characters are all dead by the end of it...), reading about them imedeately brought to my mind another duo of violent teens: Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold, the Columbine students who killed 12 of their classmates before killing themselves.
I get pissed off when Columbine comes up. Not (just) because of the fact that it was a huge killing spree inside a highscool, but more actually at the blame placed on media and music and video games saying that violence in media causes violence in people. I can call bullshit on this pretty qucik. An old saying runs, "art imitates life." Granted, with the invention of post-neo-modernism crap (I say crap, but I am somewhat a fan), life has begun to imitate art in some odd cases. However, for violent movies and music and game to be created, there had to be violence to base it off of. A thought is not sparked until life sews the seed. And this York/Latham deal has to be some form of proof of that. Both incidents have two teens who decide to kill people because they come to the conclusion that life sucks, the world runs on hate, and you probally do a person a favor by killing them. It's people who come up with this shit, they don't just copy what they see and hear. The only argument that I'd let you get away with is that some thing like DooM could guide them into have some sort of tatical sences, or something along a vein like that. I can agree to that. But only if you consede that this won't happen ifffff a person isn't PSYCHOTIC. You control your own life asshole, you don't get knowledge of how to build pipebombs and where to shoot first shoved down your throat. In fact, Zefrank made a good point once: Once you start learning to play the gituar, the gituar sections of songs suddenly become more apparent and have more meaning to you. I say it works the same way: You won't notice that you can use DooM to train for a shooting rampage unless you allread thought about going on one.
And to be honest with you, I think Harris and Klebold were really intersting guys. I would have really liked to get to know them better (and not just because the only two people they told to escape were their friends). I mean, shit, the Trenchcoat Mafia was the group of outcasts in their school. I see gorups like that around out school quite often. Shit, me and mine are probally like what they were to some extent (I remind you, once the boys started talking about a killing spree, the Trenchcoat Mafia did kick them out, and so when it finally happened, the TM wasn't involved with them anymore). Also, they obviously had some unique views on...just about everything, and by this point, all that you can find is bits and peices of what they left...meerly hacked transcripts of the tapes they wanted the world to see after they killed themselves... Oh man, the things I would've given to be the third guy in the basement when they were making their tapes. I would have taken no part in the massacre, but I still wonder what the rest of the world still doesn't know about these boys...I mean, I could have been the one who stayed alive to make sure the world saw this all. Been the one to set everyone straight as to why they did what they did...
At the very least, maybe that Asshole Jack Thompson wouldn't have come out of whatever dickwheat feild he oozed from...
But that's beside the point, and meerly a bonus. And alas, here I am, trying to scrap together what I can of their mindscapes. Oh well. Enough about mass murders.
I got one book done. I'll write the paper on it tomarrow, then...sleep. Start on the next one. Go do stuff with Krystle. Sounds like a plan to me.
I'll have more when I'm done with things about murder. Don't worry, it'll be by the end of the night...
F*R*A*G: Devil went down to Warwick, he was lookin' for a soul to steal. He was in a bind because he was way behind and lookin' to make a deal. When he came this young man playin' some Quake 2 and playin' it hot. Devil jumped up on a channel called #stump and said "Boy, lemmie' tell ya' why! I bet you didn't know it, but I'm a CS player too, and if you care to take a dare I'll make a bet with you. Now, you shoot a pretty good DEagle, boy, but give the Devil his due. I bet a PC of gold against your soul cause I think I'm better then you." The boy said, "My name's Johnny, and it might be a sin, but I'll take you bet, you're gonna regret, cause I'm the best there's ever been!" He played: Dust2 on CS, UT Onslaught! Devil's not too hard let him spawn some bots. Kick him from the server, HAX! he's back in! Noobfaggotgayhax-lol, child, lol... [awesome fiddling goes here]
Choclate milk + butter making proccess = choclate butter
And then Darkness settled over the land. And the young boy said,
"Oh good God that f*$%ing sun is gone and it's finally starting to cool the f@&k off."
If you couldn't tell, I don't like the sun. Outside I really don't have a problem with. I mean, I was one with the snow once. Only for a couple of minutes, but it happened. Then I go talk with the animals and consider the plight of the onions in the feilds and then fall asleep on a picnic table. It's pretty nice. But that friggen sun. i'm grateful to it for, you know, giving us energy and life and stuff, but it needs to learn to back off. Literally. It's too close, and it's making me hot, and that sucks. Don't forget, I'm astonishingly covered in hair. Heat really sucks when you're me.
So far, in order to escape the heat when the dark embarce of night isn't an option, I've been lying on the floor in my hallway. It is quite possibly the coldest place in my house. Try it sometime, if you don't belive me. Next best place is down in the basement. Actually, I've even been driven to voluntarily go into a pool. An odd place for me, but I must say, water is kinda nice. Not my element tho. I'm really damn close to drowning every time I go swiming. But in this heat, I'll go take my chances. The really funny part is that I was swimming all day, and I didn't tan at all, really. Like, I did a little, but that might have happened when I was trying to light the barbeque and a giant flame shot out and hit...pretty much all my exposed skin. Granted, it was the person next to me who got eyebrows burned off, but that's only because I've had experiene with barbeque flames in face.
Bah. I've had enough of this. Wake me up when it's sunday, because that's when things 'll be fun for a while.
F*R*A*G: Have you ever been eating cake, and suddenly thought to yourself, "Son of a bitch, I could be getting drunk right now!"
