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its spelt C-A-D-O-U

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A Layman in Los Angeles [Aug. 24th, 2012|12:39 am]
its spelt C-A-D-O-U
To repopulate this journal with thoughts will be a feat that could not be undertaken by a lesser man. Thankfully I am the perfect amount of man to undertake this feat. Any more of a man would have something better to do. But regardless, this livejournal, with its most intriguing adolescent content and its witty comments hath laid dormant for too long! Today I declare! I delcare it as I write it: THERE SHALL BE A NEW POST! Almost a decade later (yes that is ok to say since its more than 5 years but not quite a full decade, must be like 8) I have reawakened this feat. I was quite the wordsmith back in the day. My brain was abuzz with hormones and thoughts and things that still needed to be thought about and girls and drugs and alcohol and all the things I still love today but am no longer living under a patriach...somewhere there, I forgot. I forgot who I was. I forgot my muse: my angst. I am within my muse as we speak. I have nawt but angst for my superiors, I have naut but angst for these people in life I do detest, I have naught but angst in my mind for politicians and those that mean to enslave men...but for some reason I have internalized this angst, thought it better to "meditate" to "turn the other cheek" to "rise above it". Nay. Anger is pain that breeds hate that breeds thought that breed inspiration. well that sentence was a little fucked up but the point is still the same. I love the conflict. I love it and i feed off it and i live off it and i die by it. I do not need to tell everyone i meet about it but i need it all the same. it is what makes me think it is what is stimulating my brain right now to do only ten percent of the things I tell it to, or wait, i dont think that is how the statistic works. i was happy amongst all my angst. i am still happy now but instead of embracing the things that make me unhappy i shove them down inside and use a technique i was not raised on to "accept" things. to simply "deal." but although now in my wiser years I believe that is the way for a happy and blessed ife and spiritual enlightenment and everything great that goes hand in hand with it..that is not me. i am a writer. i am polarity. i am a conscious effort to degrade myself while degrading others and at the same time enriching a few. it is my burden to bare. or bear. i don't know, my grammar is attrocious. 
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i only insult you cause i am jealous, oh wait no, its cause you're a moron [Oct. 29th, 2004|11:03 pm]
its spelt C-A-D-O-U
Grounded, for skipping forum. I havn't been home on friday night since freshman year. Everytime I am grounded someting bad happens to someone else. LIke last time it was katie otool's end of the summer party and sloane got busted. u know what, i still would have rather been there. tonight i read the livejournals of complete strangers who live in sarasota. i don't even know what to think of myself. I am proud to say i did not sucome to touching myself extraniously. pretty much i can't wait for my parents to leave for mexico. a week all to myself...naked, will be very peaceful. I just don't know what it is about doing random chores naked that give me that special feeling but i'm not gonna lie, i like it. is it wrong to hope my parents get kidnapped by militant guerillas? i just had the idea cause that movie with the rock the rundown was on. but i mean really, what do u think is more likely militant guerillas or uretra invading microbacteria? the party begins monday night and doesn't stop...til i don't go to school until thursday. BYOBB! The extra "b" is for BITCHES!
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"Sir, I'm sorry. You have deathitis" [Oct. 24th, 2004|09:37 pm]
its spelt C-A-D-O-U
Driving down a shady Osprey Ave. remebering old times when Dylan and I would travel, entirely sober, to the quick stop and consume hundreds of dollars of french bread pizzas. Oh the days when michael junker would try and steal the specially designed microwave that toasted those pizzas, depending on the toppings, to the perfect semi brown ecstacy. While casually driving, minding my own business I saw a giant wearing a hoodie and a midget wearing a shirt down to his knees. I immediatly recognized them and a too-tall-for-the-celica Zach and a too-short-for-his-xxl-shirt shawn hopped in ma whip. They were as toasted as those french bread pizza in the days of your. We proceded to the village where zach used his liquid persuasion to get us 10 dollars from beach bazaar that would then be converted to day old donuts from the "Sevy" (7-11) After a trip to the D-Deck where i realized i offically knew every bus boy and hostess we met up with Sloane and stole a beer bong from Beach Bazaar. The beer bong would go unused for the remander of the night minus the water bonging sloane was doing out of his sunroof.

It was then off to my first sober experince at dizzy park. We danced, we played, we reminised of the heroin junkies we had once found on the children's playground. After some pictures and some e-brake turns we ventured back to Zach's little slice of heaven. While Zach and Shawn caught up on some hardcore "homework" i was offically suffering from the worst spell of deathitis ever. I felt a little better after consuming some 2 gallons of water, 5 motrin IBs and watching chapelle show...dead sober because the deathitis would not let me inhale air let alone marijuana smoke. Some may say the cough was due to lack of marijuana smoke, i agree. Less than nothing was going on that night so me and sloane jumped off shawn's 10 ft tall landrover and went to wendies. it was the perfect end to a perfect night of realizing how reliant we had become on substances to make our sarasota evenings eventfull.
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twas just another nite on jigger st. [Oct. 23rd, 2004|10:09 am]
its spelt C-A-D-O-U
the day began immediately after the 1:15 bell of freedom. the day was friday, my personal day. No arduous tasks of sitting atop a lifeguard stand watch an empty pool trying to conjure any thoughts that may keep me awake lay ahead of me. Instead I was off to siffs house to hang out with an old friend. She didn't have a name, but she was beautiful, sitting atop her plex glass throne, ornately decorated in green chambers and tubes. I love her. This was how free time should have been used, the time in limbo between when you get out of school and everyone else is still stuck in some glass. I shmoked a bowl for everyone of my comrades still fighting it out in the trenches.

Later that evening when Sloane and I (who was unfortunatly not at the afterschool special) returned to my fortress of solitude where Sloane proceeded to be his shloppy self and shlop shit all over my bathroom while showering. We left in one car and for the first time in months i had felt the beautiful liberating freshman mentality that I had once know. The thought was once scary to me...before i started my emotionally destructive substance abuse habits but know i felt the independence i had once known. I, under no circumstances was going to drive under the influence that night and I also had no idea if I could get home.

After some pizza and some laughs Beth, Sloane, and I headed to an old friend of our's house that we hadn't seen in quite some time. The bongfire was raging and the same old summer bunch was there. Complete from a drunken, puking scotty haddow to nat with his drunken but beautiful new significant other to all the other rift raft you find at the socials. No place feels more like home around that trashcan fire.

To make an exceedingly long story short, I got drunk, everyone got drunk, we needed food, we got food, we shmoked some weed, me and kuhn ran around the block from a flashlight scare, bowls were smoked again, scotty puked, beer bongs were had, dan showed up and we smoked a bowl, dan threw me on my front lawn around 1. It was all I could have ever asked for and more.
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should i try this one again? [Oct. 20th, 2004|09:00 pm]
its spelt C-A-D-O-U
[music |probably some gangster rap, you know how i do]

Today while reading a Mr. Byan Ellis' livejournal i found myself overwhelmed with whitty replys that i just couldn't keep to myself. Well, they were whitty in my mind but what i have found is that to everyone else im a douche and they suck. Hence, my life sucks. I have also found that there is just so much one can say about pretending to cut one's self. Everyone out there who has an lj to be part of the scene and whine about useless shit, y'all na mean. I also was wondering if a person such as myself with a short term memory such as myself could remeber all the things he has writen in his previous sentence let alone what events occured throughout his day and/or they are worth writing down. "try everything once except for black tar heroin" i think is a pretty good motto to live your life by. So for me its back to the knife and back to the pen and for now on i will sugar coat the little occurences in my life that you can't tell how apathetic i really am.
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(no subject) [Sep. 1st, 2004|09:16 pm]
its spelt C-A-D-O-U
my unholy god, thou thinkest of my of a nat of your displeasurement. Ever wake up and feel like "Hey, you know what would be better than going to school? Cutting of my thumbs!!! But not quick and painlessely with a hedge trimmer but no! that would be too good! I should really use a hacksaw but not just a regular hacksaw. A dull hacksaw so you really get the picture that god hates you." Anyways I got up kick the miserable rat of a dog and threw a plate at the wretched birthgiver. Anyways, school was just as hemorage enducing as usual. Afterwards I went to the Young Man's Christ-can-go-fuck-himself Association and listened to some fiend with an English accent tell me that I have to help people at my job. I wish i was back at spitting in the burgers and "adding some flavor" to the chowder. Then I had to go to the Social Security office and listen to some old women talk about how great the people are who never call them, never write, and are just simply waiting for them to die so they can endulge themselves in a new madison avenue two-seater car while making excuses that it is the privaleged class' responsability to spend to help the economy. How about donating 1/1000 of the money to a charity so some homeless man get get his miserable drink and die in an alley alone and be just another mess for some uneducated trash man. Instead people think that by buying a BMW you are somehow helping our economy? the only thing you fuckers are doing is putting more bratworst up and out the asses of those German fatcat stockholders. Anyways mom just came home with the groceries. hope she got me more razors.
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(no subject) [Jun. 14th, 2004|12:29 am]
its spelt C-A-D-O-U
heres how it went. wake up at 9, listen to some stupid bitch til 5. went to work, they cut me after like 7 minutes of work cause ronnie showed up. he worked instead, steph said it flat out to my face she rather have him work, so i cut myself. i mean why is it so hard to believe i am depressed when people cut me and tel me they like someone else better. chilled with some friends. dad told me to go to bed at 8:11 i told him to fucking choke! i am suspect of everyone, eveeryone could be my enemy..even a pant that i have loved so dear for so long.
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(no subject) [Jun. 11th, 2004|03:14 pm]
its spelt C-A-D-O-U
Last night i went to Beth's house for a little pool party. i realized how much more fun it would have been if i just killed them all and swam in a pool of blood and bile. Then i had to go home at 1030 or else my dad was going to take away my car for the summer. he didn't leave the garage open for me so i thanked him by crashing my car through it. unfortuanly his mercedes was already parked there. this morning i had to drive myself to the doctors to see if i was going to finally die. she perscribed me some pills but i stole a perscription pad and wrote myself a perscription for percasets and also got some syringes out of the store room. this weekend should prove promising as i learn to be a lifeguard...i may just let them drown, they would be better off than me anyways.
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back on the hooch [Jun. 10th, 2004|06:33 pm]
its spelt C-A-D-O-U
damned this infernal disease. it seems like whenever i share a smoke with a whore or kiss people with cuts on their lips i get sick. just another fact proving god hates me and i am marked for a young and painful death. hooray! sweet angel of death take me away. i hate that school is out. school fueled my self destructive cutting fits and now i can't cower and throw knives at my teachers. they are still trying to press charges but the death penalty would only make me happier and more homicidal. oh sweet apathy, the summer sun can lick my ass. i hope the sun burns out and everyone dies and realizes how pointless an existence we all lead
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sick as a dog [May. 26th, 2004|03:53 pm]
its spelt C-A-D-O-U
i have slept away 20 of the last 24 hours. I am dying. I ahve taken this as a sign to try to kill myself and just skip all the complexities of dying naturally. when i swallow it is possibly the most painful experince ever. I have distracted myself from the pain in my throat by various needle drugs and such thing as stabbing myself with shards of window, which i punched out last week when my parents said i had to go with them to jamacia. My fever has reached a cool 102.7, it is excellent. My parents want me to go to the hospital but i have barricaded myself in my room. its alrigth, i can't stand up without going completly blind for about 30 seconds. hopefully i will die.
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