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Thursday, 05 May 2011
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Currently
Du Hast
see relatedI Hate People
I've never thought of it as something I should ever be ashamed of. I hate people, simple as that. Why does it have to be a facade? Why must you assume that my disdain for my "fellow" man is simply a wall I put up?
I just hate people.
I am an extremely introverted, antisocial person, not because I'm afraid of being hurt, or of anything for that matter, but only because I really can't stand being around people. They irk me, they make me uncomfortable with their fads, their fashions, their prejudices, their words, their actions. People annoy me to the point that I distinctly use the word "HATE" to describe how I feel about them.
I am perfectly content to sit in my bedroom until my dying day and never see another living soul again, and I will feel that I have lost nothing in as such.
Call me antisocial, an introvert, a hermit, I don't care, as long as you know that I am being me.
You say my dislike of people is a "facade"? No. When I'm talking, laughing, and joking with your friends, that's the facade. When I pretend it doesn't bother me when a cashier tries to make small talk while ringing me up? That's the facade.
Why do I give you the money to pay for the food? So I will not have to interact with anyone new, or anyone at all, for that matter.
Who do I sit with my iPod blasting Rammstein before work, after work, and during my breaks? To avoid people and the interactions they seem to intent on performing. It's the same reason I stay in the room and avoid the roommates. By definition I already dislike them because they insist on starting meaningless conversations with me, and I know, I know they'd much rather do something else other than talk to me but they force themselves to interact with me because I live here and I'm with you so they feel obligated to be polite. You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to, it won't hurt my feelings, I promise.
I hate people. It's not more complicated than that. I can actually go through life without a constant need for social interaction.
Wednesday, 06 April 2011
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Currently
Johnny the Homicidal Maniac #2 Slave Labor
By No information available
see relatedConversation with Johnny, the Homicidal Maniac
Johnny: Why are people so unpleasant?
Victim: I don't know.
Johnny: Honestly, it's so difficult to truly care about so many things without, first, knowing the answers to some of the most fundamental, mind ravaging questions! How can one possibly respect the existence of something, people in this case, when that something seems to defy respect? They do such trivial things, and find amusement, even up to "So-Called" maturity, in the incessant mistreatment of their own kind.
Victim: That's a very general statement. Not all people are the way you describe them to be.
Johnny: Hmm... Yes, but keep in mind; It's possible that I'm quite horrendously insane. That's the fuck of it; You know, the old thing about the crazy person who never knows they're crazy. It could just be an imperceptible shifting of accepted realities. It's all really interesting.
Victim: Yes... Yes it is. But I don't suppose that your, um, current reality would allow you to let me go, would it?
Johnny: No. I don't think so.
Victim: I see. Well, could you, at least, loosen these restraints some? This hurts quite a bit. Very painful.
Johnny: Think of the sensation as reassurance that you are not dead yet. What you are feeling is life in you! I would hate to lessen that for you. I will take you from one extreme to the other. I would never deprive you of this; Your final awareness.
Victim: That's very nice of you. Could you tell me what it was, exactly, that I did to you? What I said? I mean, up until I awoke here, I've never met you. It's one of those nagging questions a person gets before being torn apart by, um, whatever this thing is.
Johnny: Mmm... What did you do? You know, I can't really say. Nothing, I guess. But you are a person, and I can't say I'm fond of that. My days are less than enjoyable because of people. You will be the effigy I burn, infused with all the traits that make them the detestable little goblins they are. You won't really burn, though; Ripped to strips is more accurate.
Victim: But, you're a person. Why don't you kill yourself?
Johnny: Trust me, I know what self loathing is, but to kill myself? That would put a damper on my search for answers. Not at all productive. Besides, I've become increasingly doubtful as to whether or not I can die at all. But let's not get into that.
Victim: Okayyy. What if I'm not like all those goblin people? You just randomly picked me out, when you could've taken someone more deserving. You could've picked one of those street performers who impersonate robots and make that irritation wheezy whistle noise.
Johnny: I thought of that, but I wasn't in the mood to go look for one: I just wanted to get back home. I probably could have done better because you do seem like a nice person. I'm sorry.
Victim: Thank you, that's very kind. By the way, my name's Edgar. Edgar Vargas.
Johnny: Pleased to meet you, Edgar, I'm am Johnny C., but, seeing as how we are sharing this intimate moment and all, you can call me "Nny."
Edgar: Is that with a K, like in "knee cap"?
Johnny: No, but it's pronounced the same.
Edgar: OK, well then! Does this mean I can go now? Because, and I mean no offense by this, I would like to go.
Johnny: Oh... Oh, no, I'm still going to kill you. Though you are my bestest, bestest friend in the room, currently, dire circumstanced require me to end your life. I haven't the time to find anyone else, and I really need more blood.
Edgar: Blood? You need my blood?
Johnny: Not yours specifically, but, yes, I do need some blood. Not for myself, no; I'm not particularly fond of any bodily fluid...
There is a wall in a room on one of the upper levels. You're underground right now; I found these lower rooms when I came here, as well as more devices like the one you're in. But anyhow, if I don't keep "painting" the wall, it goes soft, and something from the other side begins to push through. My curiosity is not so much that I would find out what that "thing" is. So, you see, I can't wait any longer.
Edgar: I ask you, once again, to please reconsider this. You can let me go, and I...
Johnny: NO! NO! NO! STOP IT!! JUST SHUT UP!! I HAVE NO CHOICE! SAVE YOUR NOISE FOR LATER!!
Edgar: I see.
Johnny: You know, your not exactly reacting the way I'd expect a person in your situation to react! Death usually has a much more profound impact on a person. Where is your fear!
Edgar: I would rather not die, but I don't seem to have much to say in the matter. But, I'm also not like you; I'm not clouded. I have no family, no friends, really; Nothing. But I do have faith; You know, God and all that. A Heaven for me, and a Hell for you. So fuck fear.
I have nothing to fear.
Johnny: I envy your conviction.
KLIK
KKCHNNK!
Johnny: Well, that did nothing for me.
--Excerpt from Johnny the Homicidal Maniac #2 by Jhonen Vasquez -
Currently
Johnny the Homicidal Maniac #2 Slave Labor
By No information available
see relatedMusings on an Overabundance of Sleep Deprivation, Numero Deux
People. God knows I love them (Do not fear the sarcasm). Actually, I can't say that I hate very many people specifically: So few seem real enough to deserve that level of attention. Certainly, though, there are some good people out there, somewhere. It's just that, here, in my tiny facet of this spinning pile, it's so rare to really feel anything from anyone. Connections are difficult. There's an irritation in being among people who've already found their connection, and finding that those left who haven't are as undesirable as the void they would be replacing. The numbing mind-ream of knowing you're alone not because people won't accept you, but because you find so little worth accepting. An imposed solitude is better than simply tolerating your company in waiting for something better. So loneliness is not such a terrible thing when you consider that the alternative to thought provoking solace, is to be surrounded only by reminders of why that solitude is preferable. I'd take film and music over the blurry mass of faces I've encountered. People begin to look like mere fleshy reaction machines: Passionless, and dead. But this is all in my own head; I can't claim to be arrogant enough to be certain of any particular perception. After all, reality is what we make it. It's just unfortunate that the general population has made it so unpleasant. I'm meandering. Perhaps a different topic.
-Excerpt from foreword of Johnny the Homicidal Maniac #2 by Jhonen Vasquez
Monday, 04 April 2011
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Currently
Johnny the Homicidal Maniac #1
see relatedMusings on an Overabundance of Sleep Deprivation
I don't kill people.Perhaps it's just another inhibition to do away with. Perhaps not. There's really no way of telling. It's possible I've just never been able to well up so much interest in any person to care enough to end their life. I'd much rather avoid them altogether Most of them. It's 4 A.M. and the sky is beautiful up and away from this room and this bed and the oppressive inevitability of sleep. I HATE SLEEP. But sleep always comes (That or Madness.) Fighting off a heavy eyelid gets lonely. But spending time this way does allow you some insight on certain things, though perhaps trivial, as most things tend to be. You begin to get very familiar with an untainted sadness, and those nasty, all consuming mortal contemplation, and you begin to resent those who turn these things into laughable theatrics, and twist it into yet another fashion. It's not skull-buckle boots, or white makeup to put on bad skin. It all loses its significance once you cheapen it by making into a style thing. But with all these irritations present, I still maintain my stupendously sunny disposition. Having predominantly unpleasant thoughts is just another thing to accept as normality, and eventually becomes part of the blood that fuels you. It's all very amusing, but, in no way does it render you invulnerable to the effects of a bad day. But I've managed this nicely, I mean, I still haven't killed anyone.--Excerpt from foreword in Johnny the Homicidal Maniac #1 by Jhonen Vasquez
Saturday, 08 January 2011
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Currently
The Big Bang Theory: The Complete Third Season
By Johnny Galecki, Jim Parsons, Kaley Cuoco, Simon Helberg, Kunal Nayyar
see relatedSeven Niggers, Six Spics, Five Micks, Four Kykes, Three Guineas, and One Wop In a Cabinet
Are there any niggers here tonight? Could you turn on the house lights, please, and could the waiters and waitresses just stop serving, just for a second? And turn off this spot. Now what did he say? "Are there any niggers here tonight?" I know there's one nigger, because I see him back there working. Let's see, there's two niggers. And between those two niggers sits a kyke. And there's another kyke— that's two kykes and three niggers. And there's a spic. Right? Hmm? There's another spic. Ooh, there's a wop; there's a polack; and, oh, a couple of greaseballs. And there's three lace-curtain Irish micks. And there's one, hip, thick, hunky, funky, boogie. Boogie boogie. Mm-hmm. I got three kykes here, do I hear five kykes? I got five kykes, do I hear six spics, I got six spics, do I hear seven niggers? I got seven niggers. Sold American. I pass with seven niggers, six spics, five micks, four kykes, three guineas, and one wop. Well, I was just trying to make a point, and that is that it's the suppression of the word that gives it the power, the violence, the viciousness. Dig: if President Kennedy would just go on television, and say, "I would like to introduce you to all the niggers in my cabinet," and if he'd just say "nigger nigger nigger nigger nigger" to every nigger he saw, "boogie boogie boogie boogie boogie," "nigger nigger nigger nigger nigger" 'til nigger didn't mean anything anymore, then you could never make some six-year-old black kid cry because somebody called him a nigger at school.
-Leonard Alfred Schneider
AKA
-Lenny Bruce
LoveKissKill
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- Name: LoveKissKill
- Birthday: 8/28/1990
- Gender: Male
- Member Since: 1/27/2008
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About Me
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I... am a man who sees himself as knowing, and, who knows, I probably am. I never really played the games that were played in elementary and high school, especially the ones involved with dating. The way I saw it, and still see it is if you like someone then you like them, and if not then you don't, but don't string him/her along. I'm a reasonable guy, all in all, I try my best to let logic prevail, not easy considering I have pretty big issues with my temper, but I'm working on it, and I'm getting it under control. I write. That's that I do, I write and I play music. Music and writing are, essentially, all I do during the day, and I always will, I know this.
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It goes on, with no sign as to when it might release you. And you know that if it ever did relent... It would not be because it care
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You can pray, All you want, to whatever god you think will listen. And, still, it makes no difference. It goes on, with no sign as t
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Sometimes... You can cry until there is nothing wet in you. You can scream and curse to where your throat rebels and ruptures. You
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