Archive for the ‘LOL LIFE’ Category
Seriously, remember me? I was really morbid as a kid in ways people didn’t understand or even realize. I remember drawing demons and ghosts in kindergarten, screw Yoda and C3P0 or the Muppets! My favorite dreams involved my brother turning into a vampire and having to stake him, it was terrible! In the dream I was so sad and it was so scary, but damn what a rush when I woke up sweating through my ET t-shirt holding my breath until I looked down off my top bunk to see him safe in his mini-bed, breathing a sigh of cool release. Or the lovely time I befriended Freddy Kruger and he made a glove for me and gave me a hat and we invaded peoples dreams together. Oh such memories.
By the time I was 11 or 12 I was really interested in psychological horror. I loved films like the Exorcist and Silence of the Lambs. I walked to the library and walked home with books loaded with such nuggets as True Crime serial killer studies, I had them all Dhamer, Gacey, Bundy, The Hillside Strangler, Jack the Ripper, Peter Sutcliffe etc. Also along with the bundle the Satanic bible, the anarchists cook book, and books on witchcraft and demonology. No one was gonna tell me what I can put into my head. That’s the one freedom I always kept for myself.
The frickin’ horror movies…
It had to have been it. The frickin’ horror movies. Dad and I went to Video Galaxy and rented a new horror movie every Tuesday. I was a sharp kid with a precocious intellect in many ways, so I assured him that I never had nightmares and that I really liked scary movies so we didn’t have to tell mom. In hindsight, I can see how they were the very essence of what I bonded to my father with. I am non-expressive, and so is he. I don’t think I kissed or hugged him since before I was a preteen. So things like horror movies which we both really enjoyed and spent a lot of time together doing, really meant a lot to me, but did it effect who I became? I struggle to think, it must have had a big effect. For one thing, I truly love the macabre, by the time I was in high school I was a “tortured goth poet” I took it about as seriously as I did the wardrobe, my favorite T-shirt at the time being jet black with a grungy white word splattered across the darkness saying “Poseur” . It was just fun, it was Halloween every day, you know why? I loved Halloween more then any other holiday including Christmas, screw the gifts, I want to dress up like Freddy!
I just like and enjoy dark and scary stuff, its so much cooler then rainbows and ponies and GI Joe and all that crap, I mean I liked all that stuff too, having more then enough attention to turn to many things as a boy, but nothing struck my fancy like Critters, Faces of Death, Evil Dead 2, or Texas Chainsaw massacre.
I always had a nickname for what I was “Darkling”, I was suprised they had many more “Darklings” on the planet, I didn’t really know until I was majoring in Creative writing in college, post goth and raver days, I think I was trying to be collegiate at the time. I wore a green turtle neck, what an asshole. I was in a class with a young professor and many other “darklings” the pride and delight we came to class with when we handed in our stories, it was a fiction writers course. Story after story of vampires, demons, death, serial killers. I had found a true home for my sinister delights.
So is it weird that I and many other people like waking up hot and sticky, throat dry and gummy from dehydration eyes teary, brain shrink wrapped in terror and mystery, from a wicked nightmare? Its like starring in your own horror movie, and you confront your fears and learn so much about your subconscious by what it chooses to show you.
What about others though? How many other darklings are out there?
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In the summer of 2005 I was fortunate enough to spend in China with my girlfriend of the time and her family. They took me under their wing and showed me all around Szechuan from Jin Li square in Chengdu to Le Shan mountains Buddhist retreat. It was an experience I have yet to surpass. The trip while mind expanding was also heart expanding. The purpose of this story isn’t to tell of my trip details and destinations, its to tell a simple lesson I learned partially in China, then through bits and pieces over the next few years as the message filtered its way through time and space.
One portion of China I saw was a Buddhist temple location in a very poor rural area known to the locals as the “Green Dragon”. The day was hot and overcast, Szechuan is always hot and overcast because of its mountainous boundaries. Our Lexus, scented with fine lily perfume made on the streets near the American Consulate rolled up into a street filled with young children and girls and old parents, open sewage bisected the road, and the people lived in what we in the U.S. would dare to call poverty. I wouldn’t call it poverty, more like desolation. We pulled up to a girl wearing a white mens tshirt, our driver, my girlfriends father asks in his harsh sounding chengdu-nese dialect, where is the Green Dragon Temple?
She replied by grunting something with a sly look as she squinted through the window at me, then pointed to the north. I could see a tuft of black armpit hair reaching out from her shirt, “we’re not in Maple Syrup Land anymore” I think to myself.
We drove off, and I saw her shrinking into the distance behind us in a yellow mustard cloud of red soil as we peeled away. We were nearly 5 minutes away Yang says, 5 minutes until my life took a twist.
We parked around the corner from a concrete building, very state looking construction, plane, lifeless and gray. Then I noticed a large set of pillars which formed a gate. The gate had ten foot high concrete walls extending from its sides that hugged the entire temple grounds. Inside of the walls it was the most zen, and peaceful experience one could imagine. I lit candles and incense and prayed for guidance and wisdom. Little did I know how prophetic those prayers would be.
When our visit was concluded we left, outside of the gates there were many many people, lepers, the sick and the starving. And they were begging for money from the rich tourists leaving the temple. A boy approached me with a small cup with some loose coin and a folded note, my instinct was to give, give them the money that I didn’t care about that sat idle in my pocket, more then enough to feed the whole lot. As I reached into my pocket my friends pulled me away and insisted it was just a scam, its only a scam, don’t give them anything. They’re scum.
I was given wisdom, I saw true suffering, I was given a test to guide me. And I listened to my friends and I shuffled passed them and I hopped into the car and we drove away. Each dip in the road made me feel nauseous, my chest was heavy and my heart ached with each beat, I felt warm liquid on my cheeks, I was crying, my body was aching for the wrong I had done. I turned my back on my fellow man that which I swore I would never do to myself. I broke my own heart.
During my trip through the temple I had purchased a few wooden bead bracelets that were supposedly blessed. I took them as a symbol or a memento so I could never forget. But I had a long road to travel yet, the message effected me through subconscious pain and guilt, I felt ashamed for being so closed off to the suffering of others, so I wore one of the bracelets to mark that shame to myself. The lesson manifest physically.
Some time later…
Fast forward a few years, the bracelet is mostly gone, Its lost somewhere in the 2 or 3 moves I did from apartment to apartment. If fate had wove this tale, then it has done so with a sense of irony, because during this time that the bracelet was lost, I was free falling, from breaking up out of an 8 year relationship to losing my home, to hating my job, to becoming angry and desperate. I made a stone of my heart and no lessons got through.
Early in 2010 things began to change for me. I lost touch with the hard shell I was wearing as I noticed it was driving away my family and friends. This hurt so I undertook a massive level of introspection and came to some conclusions. I concluded that I could only ever be myself. I cannot be the cool and calculated person I tried to be, it wasn’t real to myself and I grew deeper and deeper into a depression. After I concluded that I could no longer live a lie, and that I was always going to just be that sensitive kid who wanted everyone to get along and to be happy. And that I had to take that form of myself and mature it into a viable lifestyle. Things turned around.
People from the past have come to me, opportunities have been given to me, when I opened my heart, all frequencies, the universe began to speak to me. Event after event, situation after situation, I see the connections between us all. Maybe we are all electrified impulses in a greater beings head, but we are all the same, all connected. And because of that connection and because I was open to know it and to hear the truth, the message came to me. Bring love wherever you go, love is the wellspring from which life flows, we must cultivate life and guard it. Days after this realization the bracelet reappears from nowhere. I literally found it in a drawer I swear I never put it in. I began to wear it and the significance of the lesson back in China remained.
1 week ago:
Alan and I decided it would be a good idea to get buzzed up and walk around Manhattan. The Belgian Bar BXL, Aramark office, all around we went. This day was strange, there was snowfall in the air but it wasn’t snowing really, but there was a metallic and electric flavor to the air. I wasn’t cold, but I felt cool and as though I was adrift in the winds as we walked. I knew that night was going to be special.
I had been wearing my bracelet for a month at this point. It had a deep significance as I now fully understood the message and why I wore it. As Alan and I walked around Manhattan at night late the city was very welcoming but also in great pain. I could feel it. One corner we turned and an old black man came to me. His eyes were yellow and his beard was gray and black, his coat was tattered and his voice was low and soft. “can you help me man?” Alan gave me a sideways glance and kept walking on, my instinct was to follow him… but my feet were rooted there on the ground and I turned to face him. I reached into my pocket and its when I made the connection. “my bracelet is missing”. It was gone, I had wore it all day and I last remembered seeing it on the train when we drove into Manhattan, but now, it was just gone. That absence made me think, bracelet… bracelet, China… It was the universe tapping me on the shoulder again. I then came to realize, this is the final exam, I failed my 1st test, and now here, years away on the other side of the planet, the same token I took from China my cheat sheet, reminded me of the lesson I had already learned.
“I cant make the same mistake again” I say to Alan, his eyes lock mine and he nods his head. I hand the old man a few dollars, he doesn’t smile, he doesn’t say “bless me” he stares right in my eyes and says “Thank you”. I passed, and a weight feels lifted from my back. I feel my eyes welling up and I feel like its ok that the bracelet is gone, it served its purpose and now it has faded into history to effect someone else life. I am free of my pain and I have concluded that my life has been half full for too long.
We must tap into our higher selves. Only through connecting to one and other and spreading real genuine love and caring can we balance the tides and win the fight for mankinds soul. Talent and gifts are abound in all of us, how many times have I used my intellect, my cunning, my physical strength, my beauty as a tool to enrich myself at the cost of someone else?
Gifts are meant to be shared, and I am done being the fat kid at the party. The universe takes care of its own, you get what you need, when you need it, and then we die when the lessons are learned. We cannot ever know the true nature of the cosmos, that’s not the point of life. We have been put here into the 3rd dimension to do 3rd dimensional things, that means we life and work in a world of material, and it is through this matter that we must prove our rights to exist through charity, understanding and self awareness.
Popularity: 5% [?]
January 6th, 2010 Remorse
I hurt a really good girl tonight. I benefited from her company and I let her start to love me and then I broke her heart and left threw her away because I am incapable of being human any longer. I don’t know what this means for me, but I will forever regret hurting such a good person and I can only pray that she will one day find the courage to forgive me and everything I have done for her. I thought that I would be driven to drinking heavily for this, but I have decided that I will bear the brunt of this current of guilt and pain, what little heart I had left she has taken with her, and even though it wasn’t enough to plant and grow a fertile love, it is enough for me to sit here in pain and take it and feel it and drown in it because what I did to her was not fair and I am garbage for doing what I did.
I don’t know what I have left inside, I don’t think anything.
K. Please forgive me. I never wanted to hurt you.
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Brought forth from the pound, so full of virility and vigor.
Leaping, bounding and made to love the pack.
Loved and petted, fed and bathed.
Introduced to the new pups, love them, guard them, teach them.
Life had a purpose then, to show the way, to guard the pack.
To live with meaning.
I loved my home, my masters, my brothers.
Loyal to the end, fiercely protective, guardian.
Time passed and we lost touch with our meaning,
time passed and the pups grew.
The old loyal hound no longer required.
Ended his days alone, watching diligently from afar.
The pups breed pups, the old dog watched in pleasure.
Scorned for being who he was, when no longer required.
Tail between his legs, no family left to defend.
Where does he go?
No longer required, he let his sorrow grow.
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Empty trees, hibernating in the winter season, bare and grim like a skeletons ribs. We once played in verdant lush summers, as a family BBQ, Mesquite, fires, s’mores, baseballs, bocci and laughter. All things draw to an end, including youthful daisy chains and the joy we once felt. But as I walked through the lawn, icy snow crunching under my boots I remembered a thousand memories of my loved ones living the life we were given and the steps we had taken. Gone to oblivion now, never to return until the next generation replaces us, but what have we lost? Is it so wrong to shed a tear for what will never again be? Tasseled hair, and fragrant lilac blooms gliding on a cool spring breeze, fathers garden, earthy and rich, the dirt flipped and prepared for the summers growing, peppers, tomatoes and basil. My brothers, my little brothers playing horseshoes and growing like grape vines, every day stronger, and larger. Once fitting in my hands like a baguette of fleshy tendrils and limbs. My heart deceives me and relieves me of fanciful logic, and the tears roll effortlessly for the loss I am mourning, of our youth and our family crumbling like yesterdays Halloween pumpkins, only to birth a patch of green herbs in its place. I’ve lost them all to time, and now home in my bed, fanciful and remorseful for being a weaker man, I cannot make end meet properly and tie up all the loose ends. This side of exile, meager and wanting, but prideful and painful. Self imposed and liberty prone, I cannot tie up all the loose ends. And so portion of my heart shed, I bury it here in my fathers garden, childish things I put to bed. Walking the colorless streets, the clouds swirl and blow angry stinging cold winds at my face, tears like dew dry and freeze to my skin, all is gone that I loved and now I am alone and looking for meaning. If not in the bottle or joint or writing or vagina then nowhere, life has not meaning, never had a meaning, childish things must be put to bed. Everyday I am learning, all my life I have only been pretending, living for what I was told and not appreciating what was in my hands. Taking these lessons in stride, offends me, it wounds my pride, and I turn towards bitterness but the feelings, the long standing feelings wash ashore in seas of lamentation.
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What gets lost amidst the groveling masses huddling in cold long lines out front of WalMart for their 200 dollar Vizio 40 inch TV is what the holidays are all about.
What are the holidays about? Well I am glad you ask, its all about an over emotional attachment to your youthful ignorant days as a little crotch fruit, getting lots of gifts (If you were lucky) and not caring about the future outside of how much fun your shiny little bit of goodness was going to bring you.
So we buy into the scam when we are kids because when we are kids we get things, but when you’re this much closer to your 30s and Christmas cheer is replaced with soul sapping stress and shopping it takes on a whole new meaning. Hating the holidays, wondering why we do it, and then feeling guilty for being so fucking pessimistic.
I totally plan on combating this fatigue this winter solstice by making inexpensive gifts from the heart and giving those out instead. Poems say.
Oh merry fun will be had by all. Ha ha ha.
Popularity: 7% [?]
The further I go the less I believe in love as a form of abstraction… its really fucking tough to make things work out and usually someone has to swallow a lot of poison to make it work. It leads me to question life long monogamy, and I say this at 28 going into 29 a males prime years, and while I have no shortage of ladies who are interested, I cant help but to wonder, whats the point? I fear the die hard romantic in me is slowly being murdered by the side of me that wallows in insecure pessimism.
I have become something of the Simon Cowell of the dating world around here… I talk to a lady and all I can do is sniff out an agenda, what you are looking for Mr. Right? Someone who will love you and your faults and treat you with respect and take care of you when you need it and remain loyal and faithful while still being attractive and has pride and self dignity? Why yes that’s me, and what do you bring to the table? Nothing? oh… Sex? oh… woopdifuckingdoo.
I remember pining away in college drawing with charcoal late into the night or scribbling in my journal wondering when I was going to find the woman who completed me. Apparently she never showed up and I ended up having to complete myself. Now that I got that going for me people want in on it… except I don’t want them in on it because it took me long enough to get here.
The more things change…
At this point I see relationships more like a business transaction, I do want to have children and a family, but the steps I must take to get them seems kind of asinine to me.
Will Miss perfect show up? I am doubtful. Then again I stinted on nothing in a relationship I sacrificed for for 8 years and then she took off when I had nothing left in the emotional reserves to give. She sucked me dry and then left. Maybe I am just bitter and hurt still I dunno.
Popularity: 4% [?]
November 10th, 2009 Nipple
I wrote this little story years ago when I was in college. It was my experience when I got my nipple pierced. It is still on BMEzine.com under the email “Khardis@aol.com” which is the email I used at the time…obviously. Anyway it kind of crude and such but take it for what it is. 
Hi, my name is Bill and I have recently undergone the joy of male nipple piercing; and let me say one thing: it was great. Going in i thought that i was going to be in for some serious pain and that it was going to hurt and all that but, to be quite honest and to my surprise, it didn’t hurt at all. This was yesterday Sat. the 2nd of February. I went to Underworld Tattoo near Central Connecticut State University with two of my friends who basically wanted to come along and laugh at me when i “scream like a little girl” (little did they know). Underworld Tattoo is the same place where i had my tongue pierced and gotten my tattoos done as well. If there is anyone in the Central CT area who is interested in a place to get a body mod, i highly recommend them. Anyway, as soon as i arrived at the place my friends started laughing at me and trying to make me paranoid because they noticed that i was getting my pre-pierce jitters. I always get these jitters, despite the fact that i know that the piercing is never as painful as i think it will be. Besides messing with my head, they spent the spare time walking around the shop looking at tattoo flashes and photos of different piercings that the shop had recently done. They did this until Sal called me back to the back room. The moment of truth had come, i was at the point of no return.
When I got in the back room, my pre-piercing jitters were intense. i must admit that i was pretty nervous, since i had always heard about how painful a nipple piercing is, but Sal is a very cool guy very friendly. He saw that i was nervous and began to about idle things, some about this site , to get my mind off of everything. Anyway i get it done, I’m sure many of you know the routine. The piercing took less than 30 mins, most of which was just Sal prepping the materials and such. By the time i realized what was happening, it was all over. So there we were:
First, he cleaned my nipples and spoke to me about the necessary aftercare and all that good stuff.
Second, he marked the nipples, and told me to stand and check it in the mirror to make sure it looked right to me.
Third, he clamped my nipple.
Fourth, he told me to breathe in and then to exhale.
Fifth, by the time i had begun to exhale it was already in.
Sixth, he added the jewelry and i was basically done.
There it was, a great new nipple piercing for me to dote on. I was very happy, especially with the thought that “hey this doesn’t even hurt! What the hell?!” But seriously, for anyone who is wondering if it’ll hurt, don’t take my word on it since, as they all say, pain is a uniquely personal experience. You see, to me the pain was nothing but to others it can be hideous and excruciating. Everyone knows their own body’s tolerance for pain.
So, after i get my mod done i go back out to the waiting area and show off my new piercing. My friends Josh and Bry ask me all sorts of questions and, guess what, are really interested in it. They also confess that they want to get something done too. So Josh decided to get his tongue pierced and Bry wanted to get a tattoo. He would have gotten a tribal dragon tattoo that he had thought was cool if the tattoo artist wasn’t busy. The tattoo artist is named Marco, and he is also a really cool guy. He seems to have a real love for the art.
Ok, so let me get to the crux of this whole thing. Basically i want everyone to know that if you’re interested in getting something done like a nipple piercing: DO IT. Nipple piercing is an exciting and unforgettable experience, and a practically painless one as well.
You should never let a fear of pain get in your way. If you let your fears of pain, failure or the like, push you away from your goals you’ll be a little scared person living in corners the rest of your life. Take a chance and be crazy, you only live once! Enjoy it! I forget where this quote is from, but i think that i heard it on Strangeland, and my sister tells me it is from HellRaiser, but it goes “Short is the pain, Long is the ornament” So folks just do it and you’ll be glad you did, I am. Peace out. Bill.
I had that piercing for the better part of a few years until I ripped it out accidently one night while I was sleeping. And when I say rip I mean my nipple, the ring got caught on a blanket and in one of my tossy-turns in the night it ripped it out. I woke up in a pool of blood. Benefits of having a nipple piercing are pretty straight forward, aside from it being awesome in general it made my nipple hyper sensitive to touch, sexually this pleased me because when I was with a girl who was very good with foreplay she would work that and the ring. A girlfriend at the time once got me off to an orgasm without ever touching my penis. It was pretty intense, man how I miss that sweet nipple piercing.
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October 13th, 2009 Twins
My nieceling. I don’t know who took the photograph, but Chloes expression is priceless on te left there. Cara might be pooping, I’m not sure.
lol
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