The Ungame… Turn 2…

For those unfamiliar with The Ungame… well this might be awkward… 

 

This week’s question… What does America mean to you?

First a side note… because of course… This was actually the first question that I saw when I opened the box… thought it was a little heavy for week one… but week two why not?…

Good old America… as some of you may know… I grew up outside of the United States… so my opinion will vary drastically or it won’t… to me America was always this place I was from… but I didn’t understand… a land of contradictions… a land of freedoms and a fuck ton of restrictions on them… on the flip side of all of that… my mother’s job for most of my life was to protect those freedoms… 

To me, America is a land of opportunity… I like to believe that anyone… can come here and do whatever they dream… a hazy childlike approach to our great country I know… how much of it is true?… very little… more so than other countries… sure… growing up from the outside… I don’t believe that we are the greatest country… or the worst… I also don’t believe there is any country that is the “greatest”… some are different… some have better things… some shit is exactly the same… nationalism is important to a certain degree… I witnessed that first hand when I went to China…

What I saw there… shaped my view of America… what I saw for the first time… was so different… so extreme… selling this way harder than I need too… When I was in China (2006)… the last night I believe… our tour group went to a fancy restaurant in Beijing… to try some type of duck… I was young… the moments weren’t all important… as we passed the locals and were led to this large second room full of foreigners each at their own large table… Germans… Koreans… Australians… Norwegians… Japanese… other’s I imagine… the room was packed… the room was loud… so many languages at once…

The Americans… were led to our table… we took our seats… some of us whispering to each other… could barely hear the person next to me… as she complained that she wasn’t going to eat the duck because of the bird flu… ignorance… but she was older… had a lot left to live for… I guess… we all do in a sense… as we sat there in silence… it became obvious that the other groups weren’t just talking loudly… they were singing… laughing… drinking in their own culture in a faraway land… while our table tried to not stare at one another… I’m as guilty as the rest… I didn’t say much beyond thank you when my food arrived… What would we even say to each other?… What do we have in common?…  

I was surrounded by strangers… at the table… around it… in the building… even though it felt odd… it also felt very normal… America is a melting pot… we take the best of all the cultures around us… but we never learned to actually unite those ideas… we visit them… dip our toes in… but we don’t understand them… our cities… our states… are segregated to a point… much of it has to do with money… but it also has to do with culture… sure anyone can move to any part of town they want too… but just like I knew to not speak at that table… we know where we should be and where we shouldn’t… Too bad the government never figured that out… Land of contradictions as I said… 

 

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Broken Thoughts

Gunshots in the distance
Another life robbed of its innocence
Plagued by those around me
Fear that maybe were too similar
For existence
Said you’d exist but did we ever
Bleeding thoughts from your mind
Symptoms so familiar
As if I read it off the back of a piece of paper
Think you know what’s wrong with everyday
Breaking down the thoughts to prove how wrong
I like your ideas, so smart of you
So sad just how sad all of this makes us
Like sawing off a limb for no reason at all
Sure we have our reasons but do we
Time has taught us so much about nothing at all
Where to be when we aren’t needed
Where in the day we’ve started staring at the floor
Who could have known time would have ever been
So important to what we know
Do onto others as they do to you
Only works if you are doing the right thing
But who is right? When we are all wrong?
Think you own me, have no idea what that entails
Are you really ready to take control?
Didn’t think so, so go ahead and let go
Let me know when you’re ready to destroy
Tell me when you know
How horrible it is to grow old
Desolate, destination unknown
Feel your hands gripping my soul
So go ahead and let go
Let it all go, slave to a system that enslaved you
Nothing more than a fascist statement
Carbon copy of those around you
You’re rebelling against what you don’t even know
So different yet all the same
Fit into something, bring me the leader
Hydra with so many heads
The masters never intended for any of this
To survive
Nothing has ever been built to last

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Would seem that these thoughts fall into the political realm… oddly they were written about my job… so not quite as epic in scope… but if you put your life under the microscope you may find that the things happening on a world scale… are also happening right there in front of you… the consequences aren’t as dire as a nuclear blast… but that doesn’t mean it can’t hurt as much as one… think about it… pain is subjective to how you feel… not what someone else can take… we like to compare someone else’s pain to our own… they aren’t comparable… relatable?… sure… do others have it worse?… always… doesn’t down grade your suffering though… as comforting it may be to think about…

If you want to help others… you have to help yourself first… In New York… and possibly other places… we have this theory… saying… whatever… about people falling on ice… Never catch them… Stop them… Let them fall… it sounds awful… what piece of shit person sees someone falling and does nothing?… But there is a reason… can’t help someone if you both are in need of help… who will help the two of you?…

It is things like that… that makes me miss the cold… the bitter truth of life… the honesty of trying to survive… something lost in translation depending on where you live… Same goes for pain… hurt… suffering… no one knows exactly how you feel… that’s what this line means to me… “Let it all go, slave to a system that enslaved you,”… it is me rationalizing that my bosses aren’t just assholes… (though they may be… never rule anything out…) but rather they are suffering just like me… a different way… sure… everyone is only trying to survive… I double down on this idea with this line… “Fit into something, bring me the leader”… This idea that you are in charge is a false idea… there are so few of us on the planet who are actually in charge of our lives… and it isn’t even the ones that you think… those of us that fit into society… locked into in… lack the necessary means to be in control of our lives…

That is what we trade for structure… we trade fear… suffering for peace of mind… but someone forgot to mention… these things can’t be traded… given away… they evolve like a virus… becoming stronger over nothing… we become plagued by these fear that we thought we left… that we forget the point of life is to live… that winning isn’t the mansion… the fast car… the nice clothes… but breathing another day… an idea that is lost in translation… uncomparable between different parts of the earth… some of us have it easier… but better?… what is better?… 

There are things to get angry about and things to just brush aside… the problem with the world isn’t that we are all wrong… it is that we are not focused… “Hydra with so many heads”… No battle is ever won by throwing everything you have at once… it takes focus… no one can truly understand what is going on by trying to figure it all out at once… 

 

 

Breaks Over, Welcome to Hell

Why did I even come here? It surely wasn’t for the great fucking scenery that’s for sure. I really can’t answer the question I am faced with every morning I look out the window of my house. This town is a dying community of people still trying to hold on to a time that was better than this. And I am here to say that there is no such thing. I think it is easier for this town to not believe in reality. Too just spread the lies as each generation keeps dropping out. The town is broke, hell the whole region is, we carry a city on our backs, and float in shit waiting to hear how the state government will fuck us over again. This town is caught between fucked and truly fucked. What’s left of the jobs not sent to China are actually being run by people who aren’t even from this area. The people with all the money, the rich, are all from other parts of America, and they don’t stay long after realizing just how decrepit this town has become. The rest of America is under the impression that when you live in New York you live in the city with all the bright lights and all of the future at your feet. When in truth the city is only five hours away, but it feels more like it is on the other side of the world. Jamestown is worlds apart from what other people think of New York and some days it feels light years away from where I am anymore. Why am I here? Why is anyone here?

I pick at a scab on my hand and it starts to bleed. It starts to bleed a little bit and then it begins to bleed a little bit more and then a little bit more. The blood dripping, flowing down my finger and finding its way into the palm of my hand. The scab was once a blister that I tore. The blister is from the last time I played drums. It had been a while since I played drums and the calluses that once proved I was good at something have long disappeared. Why did I move here? Better yet why did she move us here? That’s right she wanted to come here it was all her choice after I told her what my mom said. It was her suggestion that we come and then she was gone. She threw me aside like a piece of rotten meat. Why did I move here? Why did I move anywhere? The cigarette I have been smoking is slowly making its way to my fingers and I know I should put it out, but I just stare at it. I can feel the warmth of the fire burning within the cigarette, proof that I can at least feel something. The drug store bandage that once covered the scab I just can’t stop picking lies on the dirty floor next to last night’s attempt to forget just what is wrong with me. My floor is littered with dirty clothes and trash, I realize yet again I have let myself go.

Tomorrow classes start back up at the local community college and I must return to further prove nothing is really wrong. If there is one thing I hate it is that fucking school. Why did I move back here? So I could complete college after dropping out of the last one due to a lack of interest. Now the only way I can make it through a single class is to numb myself into a coma. At least the drugs are good for something. The blood is nearly dry in the palm of my hand and I begin to pick at the trail of dried blood. The blood falls off my skin like little red snowflakes. It’s four a.m. and I have my first class in less than six hours. I move from the chair in the dining room to my bed that I moved into the living room. My pillow smells like months of sweat and there are white mucus trails all over it. I flip my pillow over to the other side and realize I’ve already done that before. The breaks over and now I must return to hell. Tomorrow will be the same as the last.

Orginally from A Lie… 

Turn Out the Light

I begin my day by waking up like most of humanity, but in a hint of irony, I don’t think that I ever truly wake up. My first thoughts are to find some drugs, but I failed to get more last night or save any for this morning. So now I am beyond hopeless. I light up a cigarette and take a couple of drags before stumbling my way to the bathroom to piss. There is a huge bruise on my left inner thigh and I can’t recall how in the world I got it, but now that I know I have it my leg begins to hurt. I move to the kitchen and open the frig door more out of habit than anything else considering I already know that there isn’t anything inside it anyways. More thoughts creep into my head and this is why I should have saved at least one more hit. My second real thought of the day is that I have to work later. I already know hours in advance that I will be thirty minutes late, but I also know that they won’t say anything. In some sick sad way, they feel sorry for me or they act like they know something I don’t. Either way, this pisses me off beyond belief. I don’t say anything because I need the money now more than ever. I close the frig door and start to get ready for work. It’s not a long process so, I’m out the door before I even realize it. I send her a text that I know she will never respond to. I send her a text that says, “I love you and I miss you”, but it was a waste of twenty seconds. I start my car up and pull out of the parking space. I stop by the dealer’s house before heading to work. I barely had enough money to get what I will need for the next few days of my miserable life. I need to conserve as much as I can before I get paid again or things just might get worse. I laugh at the thought but it is more real than I can even comprehend right now. The drug dealer sends his best and this pisses me off. I could barely stop from doing a hit right on his front porch but I make it to the car. I head to work and today is already a waste.

Sixteen and fucking stupid. Sixteen year old girls pretending to be so stupid and dizzy about the dumbest things. As if a five-year old doesn’t understand how much something costs. How hard does one person have to be dropped on their head to not understand the concept of money in America? Yet this woman standing in front of me isn’t sixteen, though she acts like it, hell I don’t think she is even in her twenties anymore and if she is she looks fucking rough. Her and her rather large but not for this area boyfriend, who decided today wasn’t a good day to wear sleeves, stand in front of my register. There is a horrible smell coming from somewhere, but I’m not sure where. They have decided to purchase some beer, her pleasure condoms, and this week’s special two regular sized candy bars at the value price of a dollar. The slightly overweight woman who really doesn’t need one more candy bar asks me, “If the tag says two for a dollar does that mean I have to get two candy bars to get the sale price?” My mind flashes to the many possible answers I want to say to her stupid question like do you really need two or are you fucking retarded? Because if you are retarded that is fine, but if you’re just pretending, that’s fucking sad. I calmly tell the woman you can still get the sale price if you purchase just one as I hide my twitching hand from her view. And just so there is no confusion I tell her that they are fifty cents apiece. She gives me a look that makes me wonder maybe this isn’t an act. She really is slow in the head. She decides the best way to go is to get two. “They’re only a dollar,” she says with a giggle. Her next words will haunt me for as long as I live. “You got this don’t you Big Daddy?” I want to vomit all over her, and for the first time tonight it isn’t from the drugs. The man, known only as “Big Daddy,” steps up to the counter and reveals just exactly where the horrible smell in the air has been coming from. He is wearing a sleeveless shirt that says, “Taken Care of Businesses,” on it. His sleeveless arms are quite hairy and sweaty despite the fact that it can’t be more than forty degrees outside. His hairy arms release an odor so wretched that the smell is burning my raw nostrils. I have resorted to breathing through my mouth, as little as I possibly can. The sooner they leave the sooner I can breathe. I can feel my face getting redder as my blood starts to accumulate in my face making it feel even hotter in the room than it already is. I feel as though I am trapped under water. The couple begins to speak. I think they are telling a joke, but all I can hear is my heartbeat pounding in my head, not the words coming out of their mouths. I don’t understand why they keep talking when I’m not saying anything back. I don’t understand what is going on. They are laughing and smiling, and the smell is somehow getting worse. It hurts, but I pretend to laugh anyways with them. I must pretend to be normal and that everything is okay. I must appear normal I chant to myself as my hand is still twitching and my leg has joined in. My mantra of normal is really starting to fuck me up. What is normal at a time like this? I hand the change to “Big Daddy” and the woman steps even closer to the counter, close to my face, closer than anyone should ever be, and she looks me right in the eyes. She says, “The secret is to have lots of sex.” I swallow the vomit that has found its way into my mouth and force a smile. I have no idea why she is telling me this, but I am grateful that they at least bought condoms. Now if they understand how to use them is a whole other question. My guess is that reading is difficult at their level of intelligence so probably not. It is another sad day on planet earth.

Orginally posted in A Lie… 

Too Big To Fit With The Rest

This was supposed to be with the very first post for Lemonade and Glass… Then it grew too large to shove in there… so I was going to cut it down… Then the shooting happened and well that didn’t pan out… two months too late…

 

Cruci-fiction In Space by Marilyn Manson (Glass)

Holywood was a pretty amazing album as a whole… just about any song on there is one of my favorite… I chose this particular track because of the haunting and spacey music… I also think that this track blends the overall concept of the three album concept that Manson was working on… I think Manson takes on a lot of shit for his image and music… I had the benefit of not being subjected or shown a lot of what Mason was doing until after the fact… Told Manson was the most god-awful thing… the devil… made it something I had to check out when I was finally able to get my hands on it… It became for me a forbidden secret that I was a Manson fan… Which in retrospect was pretty fucking hilarious considering my parents had no problem with me listening to Cradle of Filth… who literally have a whole concept album about Lucifer… nor did they have a problem with me watching violent horror films… or playing violent video games… What can I say the late nineties and early 00’s… music was the evil of the day…

Manson I think was something else… and what that was, was exactly what he wanted to be… Manson tricked America into giving him power… If you really look at what he did… he didn’t do anything… that was what was so crazy about Manson to me… tearing up a bible?.. Any rational Christians should be smart enough to know that the message of Christ is in your heart not in a book… I mean if you want something to be angry about… Who prints and sells the bible for a profit?.. Then there was the media and political lead crucifixion of Manson over Columbine… Again America put him up on the cross… Not the actions that took place that day… still having issues with gun control… school violence… bullying… in America today…

If you actually listen to or know of the concept of his three biggest albums… It tells the story of a rock star transcending to the point of something more… an Anti-Christ Christ figure… Told in reverse no less… The concept to me was the most interesting thing about Manson… his whole narrative of how America creates celebrity… creates a monster… was fascinating… to not only listen to but to watch play out….

Since I have attempted to write this post yet another school shooting has taken place… Yet again the media is to blame… Not the actions of the shooter, but the media that drove him to do it… It’s been over a week since the latest tragedy and I have yet to hear anything from the shooter… One interview where he is like I did this because of this or I was influenced to do this because… However, We have had a rather interesting escape goat worth of responses as to why this all happened…

We have all this blame on mental illness… We have a problem with mental illness in America and maybe the world I’m not sure, but mental illness is a very vague term… again we want to go on the defense against something rather than the issue itself… guns were the problem here yet again… mental illness may have played a part and probably did… but having a mental illness doesn’t mean you are going to shot up a school… in fact, all it means is that you have a mental illness… guns shouldn’t be available to anyone with or without a mental illness… Check out Falling Down… a movie about a normal man pushed to the edge of his mental limits… a movie about a man who can’t take any more… completely normal yesterday… lost his damn mind the next… how do we stop him?…

How do we use these new proposals to end gun violence against someone who hasn’t been broken yet?… It is not as though you check the guns out and return them when you are done…  again we let children die and again we will fail to act… Really hope John Wick 3 is bloody enough to justify the next school shooting or we might just have to start getting rid of teenagers because we sure as shit aren’t going to get rid of guns..(Lemons here… yep… I will be crossing my fingers for gun control from down under… )

a lifetime for it to make no sense… we bleed the martyrs dry and wait for the next one… we say we care but have we ever?… 

Broken Thoughts

I gave it all up for this?
These feelings don’t subside
These feelings grow deeper
Slip into the cracks of my broken heart
Give it another year
Give me a whole lifetime
Waste it once again
If I could do it over
So unsure if I would
Life gets easier with time
Because the will to live
Goes with it
Gave up my soul for something I don’t know
Want It back but I’m so unsure

 

They are trying to convince a generation built on speed, built on now to go slower on the streets. They might as well convince a dog to shit in the toilet. All of the skills are there but the instinct? Not so much. No one wants to go slower. If anything they want to go faster. Walk faster, talk faster, and be done faster. No one wants to do anything that takes time. This generation or the last. We are not designed to live in the now only the future. Even if that means a chance at death. Life itself is a chance at death.

 

At this point, it might just be best to die
A world without me may be the best
Thing for you
Not going to stop until it’s all destroyed
I’ve got some shit to say
You bring out the best in me
Only reason you’re still breathing
You bring out the motivation in me
Only reason you’re still living

I can feel your eyes
Yet you’re not here
Feel your fingers tightening
Around my throat and I’m
Starting to, to think this is all okay
I’m starting to think I never had a say
Starting to believe all is not well
I could go on but by now
The point should be clear
I should kill each and every one of you
Each breath you take is a knife
Every thought a bullet hole
Ripping through my body
Shatter, broken, set my body on fire
Leave me to die already
Can’t commit to something so sinister
Torture so much more humane
Sadistic and satisfying
My breathing becomes shallow
Your smile from ear to ear
If only, if only the world would disappear
My displeasure could go to
Still alive, has to be a reason
So fuck it, let it go

 

This weeks theme was work and society… society and work?… working on society?… working on myself in the realm of society?… I’m going to have to sit and think about this for a while…