One Emotion

Sometimes, a picture is worth a thousand words. Another space: One Emotion, check it out.

June 27, 2004

Worthless, Wasted

Unforeseen, it suddenly began.
We held on to something that wouldn’t go away.
I held on to something that wouldn’t go the way.
Worthless thing and wasted end,
Worthless trouble, wasted time to mend.
And it’s just like they said,
The way you just did.
And it’s just like they said,
“Slow down, you’re falling down, you're falling dead”
“Slow down, you’re falling apart”
“Get out, you play no part”
Pointless talks, wasted cold sad breaths.
Worthless fire, desired but wasted,
Blinding passion, wasted warmer breaths,
Worthless kisses, wasted sweetest flavors I tasted,
Worthless looks, from the affectionate soul,
Worthless game, worthless roles,
Worthless smells and wasted memories they bring,
Worthless voices of a wasted angel, once with wings,
Never caresses on worthless hands,
Ruined moments, wasted time,
All wasted…
Worthless fire.
Just a liar, a worthless liar.
Expected, it ended.
All wasted…

June 23, 2004

After it, After all

After all that’s been said and done, after all the shit, I am smoking the new day’s last cigarette. It’s the last draw. Slowly but surely, I inhale the cigarette’s last breath and swiftly throw it. It’s done. The dawn is breaking with the first colors of the day, red,pink and blue, in some strange reviving blend. The sun is far in the horizon, slowly but surely it comes. I go to sleep...


This follows the "Too good to be true" post.

Too good to be true

It’s amazing how good you can sometimes be with people, girls to be specific. You do play the good guy part, since this is no play to act in, this is serious and since you really are no actor or just don’t want to be. The girls see games everywhere; everything is a big giant nerve-wrecking time wasting shit inducing play for them.

The keyword is “play”: maybe it’s the “Barbie doll” effect; they are used to playing with people or miniature idealized (but stupid) versions of them or maybe they see people (and guys to be specific) as miniature pets to control and put into multiple kinds of awkward situations: within shit, eating shit, surrounded by shit, stepping continuously in shit etc. the shit element seems mandatory. And fuck the cliché. Everything about them, sooner or later, turns into shit. A day will come when she’s just doesn’t want to see your shitty face anymore, out of the blue, or out of the brownish yellowish beige-ish I-don’t-know-what-ish shits. And yes, I am a good guy. I am doing the right things. I am showing respect. I am showing that I care. I am trying to work things out. I am considering her (their) needs. I must be considerably stupid.

The keyword is “stupid”: good is stupid. Plain and simple but, frankly, very hard to stuff into my crowded little shit gorged brain. Good is shit and shit is not good. I really ought to know by now. I should try being a complete shitty asshole sometimes that is, if I can be. No, I am not stupid. Apparently, I am doing stupid things: things like caring, feeling and related, things good guys typically do. You merely can’t bet your time on a girl. I need a woman, a real woman, not a stupid shitty wanna-be girl who thinks her stupid shitty flings and childish impulses are the next best things to try to me. After a while, in the end that is, it gets really shitty.

The keyword is “shit”, it’s the main keyword, gentlemen. Better let your heat guided missile in your pants command you, at least, that way, your needs are satisfied, you are never derived from your main objective, you are fulfilling your species ultimate goal: impregnating as many females as possible to ensure the species’ survival, you get plenty of exercise, and you’re a complete asshole. That way, the chicks can really ultimately dig you, because you remain unaffected, untainted, untouched by their flapping shits. That way, you are really “too good to be true”…

Note: If you are a girl and are offended by this, sue me, I really know what I’m talking about, if you don’t agree, wtf are you doing here, go here.

June 22, 2004

Play with me bass…

You are loaded, bloated, elated, and intoxicated. You sip drink after drink, each one with its own savor. You are no longer here, but you still exist somehow. Each drink awakens a particular sense. Everything feels like you never felt before. You revert to your basic, most impressive instincts: every perfume is a delight, every touch is sheer pleasure, every kiss is pure renewing ravishment. You put on some music, good music, fuckin’ good music. You are no longer here, you surely exist, but you really don’t know that you do.

The keyword is “exist”: you are in your own world. You exist only through the wondrous beats and rhythms captivating your silly but active as ever mind. You think about nothing, and everything. You are nothing and no one. A deep breath, you are here still. You are there still. You know nothing. You feel nothing. Yet, everything makes sense. All that you’ve know, lived through, sought for, cried for and desired lies now clearly in front of you. You face nothing, but see all. You’re at your lowest point, and you really know yourself*.

The keyword is “self”: you are now someone else, someone that isn’t you, but that can’t become who he is without you. Or maybe, this is just plain old you in a radically different perspective. All your hopes, dreams, desires, fears, regrets and sorrows mingled with the toxic elements you just imbibed and the hypnotic beats surrounding you arouse a particular state of being, so pure, so simple, so damn powerful that you can’t merely deny. You are now what you never were, ever is and what you will be, you are who you really are, no extra flavors, no supplements, just raw unsharpened, unshaped. You are no longer forged by social boundaries, tradition or morals. You are free. The music you play reflects in your most inner self. You live the music, feeling its every beat, variation and tune. You breathe by the beats. You breathe through them, for them. You are a slave to this music. You are not free, but happy, intoxicated.

The keyword is “intoxicated”: the music is a spell tampering with the deepest parts of your mind. It’s just the only thing you exquisitely feel. Your alcohol level is sky high. Your mind is fighting this sudden rush of artificial elements. The fight feels good and that’s what it’s all about. Your mind doesn’t respond correctly or correct anything anymore; you discover your true identity. You are lost. You are no longer here. You are no longer holding back any memory or thought. Suddenly, for a brief moment, you awake, to find a friend or a lover. No talk or look is necessary. There is a strong, maybe wasted, connection between “the wasted”. The music is hypnotic. You are numb; comfortably numb (Pink Floyd fans, Hi…).

The keyword is “comfort”: music is my life, well a good part of it. In all that I have been through, music was there. Music is just human experience nicely put into elegant sounds. To make this point clear, Imagine this: you’re making out with a girl, the moon is high, her perfume is all over you, her kisses are all over you too, for a moment, you stop and just listen to the music playing and say: “Damn! This is soooo gooooood”. The “this” is not necessarily just the music, the “this” is the experience as a whole embellished by the music. Whatever the situation, music will bring its own dimension, this will broaden your perspective, and this is always gooooood.

* Quote from the movie “The Salton Sea”.

June 20, 2004

Nice Guys Finish Last

My next post was supposed to be about the "Bad Guy" syndrome, that is basicaly nice girls being unbeleivably attracted to stupid bad ass boys or typical assholes. I found this thread on the net, it almost says it all, just wanted to post it, i will post my "version"/"vision" of things later on...

Meanwhile, comments are welcome: email me!

Nice Guys Finish Last by Garrett Hols

It’s amazing that assholes can get girls. Actually, now that I think of it, it’s not that amazing. They are assholes at heart, but to meet girls they lavish their undying love. IT’S A CHARADE. They act nice, friendly, and they listen… until they get into what they’re after. Their prey thinks they are in love with them, however when they realize what assholes their predators really are, they pretend like the asshole is really nice inside. The girl tries to change the asshole into a nice guy, but assholes will always be assholes. She gets upset and goes to the nice guy to complain about the asshole. But she claims to love the asshole… now this is where the theory begins. She doesn’t want to look like she is easy so she wont dump the asshole right away, instead she will stay with the asshole.

Girls are idiots. They don’t realize that the nice guy has been there all along. He never had to pretend to be a good guy to get girls because he is naturally like that. However, girls don’t see it for some reason or another. They look at the nice guy as a friend, a trusted companion to whom they can tell their sad story to about their asshole boyfriend. But the nice guy isn’t THAT naïve. He was trying to score with the girl he listens to all along. The problem is that since he is a nice guy he keeps listening.

Since girls get attached to things that pay attention to them, they think of the nice guy as a friend. A FRIEND. They don’t say, “Oh he’s hot” or “I want to have his children” about the nice guy, they just want the emotional support. When they get the emotional support from the nice guy, they don’t need it from the asshole. The nice guy gets the **** end of the stick while the asshole gets all the action. I am starting to wonder if being a nice guy is really the route to take to get action… I have been down this path for all of my post-pubescent life and it has gotten me NOWHERE… at least not in the women department.

Perhaps another reason why girls fall for the asshole is because assholes ignore the girl they are with. The women wonder, “Why isn’t he paying attention to me?” so they explore why. They poke and prod and get closer to the asshole. They start to get easier with each attempt to get closer. The asshole finally says, “I’ve let this beauty dangle long enough, time to boat this bass”. It is then he puts on his charade and the girl feels like she has won him… even thought all she has won is an asshole.

Once you have gone down the path as a nice guy or a “listener” you can’t turn back. The girl will always go after the assholes because there are always nice guys there to listen. Once you realize that you are a “listener” you cant do anything about it… just pack up and close shop. There is no way you will get into her pants… ever. There is and never will be a situation where the nice guy will get the girl he has a crush on. It just doesn’t work like that. The girl wont “come to her senses” and realize what an asshole her boyfriend is like in the movies… instead she will just go after another asshole, and unless you stop being a nice guy, she will never go after you.

Women complain that there are no nice guys in the world. Right. They are obviously not looking hard enough because there are nice guys EVERYWHERE!!!! Girls aren’t looking for nice guys… they say they are but they’re not. They are looking for the perfect asshole, but there is NO SUCH THING as the perfect asshole. All in all, the nice guy gets the shaft. To all the girls out there with boyfriends that don’t treat you with respect, that don’t listen to you, and that don’t care about you I say this; look next to you. The guy that has been standing next to you the whole time is the guy you have been looking for. He is what you want your asshole to be like. He knows more about you than you know about yourself… because he has listened to it all.