Facing Failure

Ages ago, i used to hang out at a friends's house. She had a couple of cats who seemed to spend their whole days fucking and creating kittens. So, on a regular basis, the tiny guestroom would be littered with small furballs with a baby brain and lots of curiosity in it. I would usually sit on the couch while chatting. Once, while i was talking a couple of the tiny rogues decided to climb me as a mountain. And they did. After crossing me, the bravest of them reached the couch's erm rest. An abyss in front of him, after all that effort. The kitty realized that crossing the chasm wasnt going to happen. So he stared at me pleadingly, hoping (maybe>) that i would help him. But i missed the message i guess. So he just faced the failure of his attempt and sat there, with a tiny heart full of defeat.

I think there isnt a single day in my life where i dont think that every single spect of my existence is a failure. Usually this thought might sound like a cry for compassion, or some jelly spined vent in search of a "aw, no it isnt".
If that wasnt clear enough so far, i dont need symnpathy7. I am just aware that a lot of my life isnt what i thought it would be. And i know many people face a similar problem daily. Telling them they're wrong isnt necessarily a solution. Most people know that something in their lifer has gone wrong, that they made mistakes or that they're stuck in a bad situation. And saying "things will be better" or "it's ok" does not help.

I think a necessary part of survival is accepting the fact that you fucked up and that possibly you will fuck up again. Not in a Polyanna way, where you see the bright side of living but in a calm, accepting way, where you try to coexist with the failure and refuse to let it take over your life.

For example. When it comes to youyr love life, you're going to get disappointed a lot. Getting married is often a road to depression, with few exceptions. You can find the right person, and if you do, you're lucky. But you might not or you might end up living with the wrong one. Having a family isnt necessarily a goal or an end to your life. Things have still a high chance to get messed up but that isnt necessarily a negative. I know mothers who are more alive than before they had their kids and are great lovers. It isnt over until your dead. And yeah, you might never find love. It can happen. There isnt a chance for everybody, sadly. But that doesnt mean your life will suck. It will be incomplete, but it will have good sides to it, somehow.

Also, if you're in one of those beautiful, painful moments of a relationship where love is ripping your heart to pieces, enjoy it even if it hurts. Thats way better than the emptiness of not falling in love cause it hurts too much.

Work might never satisfy you. You might be one of those lucky ones that do something they enjoy, but even in that case, you'll face a lot of failures. Projects that dont go anywhere, shattered dreams, things that you put your heart into that suddenly become nothing because someone without a soul decided to crush them for some reason. Or you might just get stuck in a bad place where you just feel like every day is slipping away without you even noticing.

Most friendships are a failure. Daily life is, a lot of the times. Honestly i have a moment where i want to die at least once every day. Nothing in my life is where i wanted it to be, or close to my hopes and dreams. But i REFUSE to let this crush me.

I am not giving up cause ive seen the bottom and i dont want it to win.
I am not giving up cause i have always a few people who need me, no matter how many times i get told i'm useless.
I am not giving up cause i dont wanna give people the satisfaction of saying "i knew he would give up".
I am not giving up cause no matter what i'd rather live failign rather than dealing with the idea that i havent tried.

I survive failure and of that, i am proud.

A Very Special Jules

Bless the heavens for giving me an Internet connection, and bless my hyperactive, ADD-riddled, Kinetic mind for spending time on it and making connections. As much as i try to explain how some friendships made through the web are as good as the ones you make in a pub, often better, people seem to not get it. Fact is, you meet some gems on the web, and your life improves by 300% after you've met them, because they're special beings. And they have something that will make your existence better.

Case in point: The Queen of Awesomenss (or as she would put it Chronical Awesomeness) Julianna Shapiro aka Jules. The gorgeous lady you're seeing in the pic and the mind behinf the great place of creativity, poetry, laugh, tears and general greatnass that is the "What The Jules?" website.

I could spen the whole day describing the joy of reading Jules tweets, how they're smart, informative, fun, sweet and thought provoking. How having a simple conversation with her is a moment of beauty and heart fillinb awesomeness. How her website is a source to know how being a lupus patient isnt something that stops you from being a special person. How it covers all sorts of great stories, images, sounds, things you should know and how once you're caught in her beautiful web of ideas, you feel like you've been enriched and your days will never be the same again.

I could. But the best thing you could do, is just go there and read what SHE has to say. Watch her videos. Talk To her. Ask her questions. Enter her world. Trust me, she will make yours less lame. Every day a bit more special.

Thank the heavens for giving me Jules, too.

http://www.whatthejules.com

Music For Your Pockets - Radio Days "C'est la vie"

If you miss out on this band, you're a complete idiot.

I'ìll give you more concrete reasons, since i know you people are impervious to anything good.

First: the band is from Italy, and while there's an incredible number of amazing, non-mainstream bands in my country, they dont really get supported as much as they deserve. Talent, here, isnt respected. So when a band like this one, that puts out a simply great record, they need all the love they can get.

Second: this is one of those records that win your heart at the first round. The sound is what critics call "powerpop". Think of Big Star, The Replacement or Weezer. Or, without name dropping, think of super hooks that get in your head at the first spin and never leave. Songs that make you feel like partying on a beach, thinking there's no tomorrow and if there isd, it will be alright.

Just listen to it for fuck's sake, do i have to fuckin beg you?

Take a Bite

http://www.radiodays.it/

Why Men Are Fucked Up

If you never met me in person, and just read my magnificiently insightful articles and wonder stuff about me, let me point out a fundamental fact about my person: I possess a penis.

Ok, i guess, i told you that before but, as it has been told to me in the past, i possess all the qualities of a man. The bad ones too. I'm perpetually horny, i like gross humour, i am obsessed by women, i like cars, big plasma screens, i am emotionally crippled and dont like expressing my feelings and so on. I can cook well, the idea of men not being supposed to cook or have taste is a silly myth perpetrated by countries where the food sucks. I am convinced that a REAL man is supposed to be also able to fix a good meal. Being a good cook is a sign of something that will probably make you a good lover. It's a fact, dont dispute me.

That sais, i know how for you tittted beings, men are an inexplicable, while attractive, mess. And i'm gonna tell you, it's true. Men are wrecks. Even the ones who think they're different, are delusional or liars. We are an imperfect but hilarious creation, that is possibly taxing to your estrogen addled brains.

While i think most women can deal with men pretty easily, allow me to explain some less debated points of our imperfect nature. Maybe with the hope that men read this and giggle with self awareness, so we can punch them in the face.

It's All About That

The idea that men think with their dicks is TRUE but has been misinterpreted with the usual diminishing sweetnesss of the boobed species.

Yes, everything that men do is, directly or indirectly related to our desire to please women and obtain sexual favours from them (or men in the gayntlemen case).

I know women have a sex drive too, desire sex, and go nuts for boys as much as we do. That's not the point. What i mean is that men are completely, utterly and unquittingly dominated by their penises. Every single decision is driven by an unstoppable, dumbening lust. Every thought we have is in some way or another, sex oriented. Or geared towards being attractive, obtaining compliments and wooing, being the centre of attention of women. Even the cockiest cocks of the walk are deeply insecure messes who build their confidence through a war-like regime of body shaping, saying only the right things, giving ourself a code of action, obsessing on being always attractive and charming towards ladies, being good looking and perfect.

Some of use, relax a bit more but only because we were going nuts and just gave up or because we found a different way to charm ladies. But deeply we have tough body issues and they're not fun. We feel ugly, fat, out of shape, goofy looking and we fight to the bone to become perfect.

Some girls think that they can dominate us by just showing cleavage. that is partially right. We do love cleavage, so if its there we will watch it. But if you're dealing with men on a more serious basis, we need to be reassured on how cool we are, how sexy we are, how you like watching us, how hot we make you feel. And how you like us. Being courted and appreciated isnt something only women like. We are broken, horny and fragile. Have a lot of good, hot sex with us (and please, please, PLEASE tell us what you like cause we like it too) and massage pur egos and we will follow you like silly puppies forever.

Comraderie Is Dead

I dont know if the myth of "buddies" and "bros" still exists, but let me tell you, with few exceptions, it IS a myth.

We have good friends and we love them with a special bonding. But they're few. When it comes with the general pack of males, we are at war with each other. Dont believe the Jersey Shore crapola, there's no code of honour between men.

With the exclusion of the one or two brothers we choose, most of the "rules" made up by magazines and books about how we respect each other are a myth.

Our "friends" will make a move on our girls as soon as we lower our guard. We will steal each other dates. We will pull cruel stunts on each other that will endanger oru love life, jobs, health, cause its funny. If we're broken or depressed there will be no support from other men, cause that would be "gay". There will be humiliation and cruel jokes. When a guy breaks up, we will laugh at him, tell him how he was sexually inadquate and how his once love of his life is probably fucking someone else. Then some of us will call the girl and make a move on her. And if we succeed,m we will obstensibly parade in front of our friend, just to spite him.

The idea of "male bonding" exists in the army, not in daily life. It's a myth.

With the exception of our brothers, which we will defend with our lives.

We Have An Enemy Since We're Born

Ok, maybe some of you will say that it's not their case. Yeah, sure.

Since we start to exist, before we deal with older brothers, bullies, teachers, bosses, we have a figure in our life we have to fight. Fathers.

No matter how you put it, every man had a conflict with its father, some sort of hostility and pain they carried through life and kinda influeneced how we behave towards others and possibly how we will act as fathers on our own.

I think most men love their kids. Some more, some less. But when it comes to boys, something in males' feral nature comes up. A man doesnt have paternal instincts in him. Most of the time it's a learnt process. And we do bring our own baggage to the parenting deal. And our male kids have a lot of baggage to them. They have expectations (they have to be as good as us, possibly better), they're rivals (they may get better than us and obscure our power and our dominating role. and they steal the love of our womwn) and they're just there. So fathers torment their kids, in some way or the other.

Kids grow up with their father's shadow in their life. We dont wanna be like them, yet we know we will probably be. And that rips us apart

Acts Of Social Debauchery

One point of view i started sharing with the army of possibly physiscally repulsive, and never to lose their virginit, smelly shut ins that root for social terrorism on the internet, is that our actual world is a pile of obnoxious shit that needs to be set on panic mode once in a while.

I despise the whole Anonymous movement. If you dont know who or what they are, picture a bunch of mentally deficient pranksters with no life to speak of, that decided to form a group, with (hear hear) some sort of manifesto, and turn hacking and trolling as a social statements. Ok i guess, there was too much internet lingo there too. Well they are the internet version of an asshole who, since no one invites him to parties (and yead they probably are all men, cause only misspent testosterone makes you THAT cocky and self assured of importance you do not have), decides to bomb the party place and says he did it "as a statement against exclusivity", while hiding behind his laptop.

Anyway, the world still needs to be reminded, sometimes, how silly it is, so follow these couple of examples on how to creative hilarious and thought provoking social disruption.

The FaceBook Final Demolition

we all know that Jewboy's social network is about to fall (no offense to jews, i just find the term funny). Still a lot of people seem to be completely obsessed by it and need to post increasingly deep and heartfelt status updates. There's where the true target is, not on twitter. People on FaceBook are the sensitive ninnies that think they're above the internet game, say that "they only interact in real life", but still, at nigt, update their wall with sentences that are a cry for attention.

So, take all your contents and post devastating answers to their status updates, like:

- "Your Mom"
- "Fart"
- "Very appropriate, you fight like a cow"
- "Oh yeah?"

Introduce a drop of fear in their quiet.

The racial issue

In Small towns, everyone thinks they're not racially sensitive or is completely racist while denying it. You know those pubs where all white kids go and drop stuff like "hey i aint racist, i got black friends, i'm just saying that they're all criminals. What? I tell it like it is!". Or, you have those that are all bleeding heart and seem to alweays be fighting for the rights of oppressed groups even if the groups really dont need their fake sympathy.

Thats where you get in. Get a partner and a disguise. You'll dress up as a latina Stripper and her pimp (use outrageous fake names like Ramon Chorizo and Pepita Crabs). The lady must have a fake pregnant stomach, with a fake baby made of choclate milk inside.

Then stage a terrifying fight. Scream horribly sterteotypical insults to each other. Lots of references to "crossing the border", "Mowing lawns", chihuahuas and being smelly. Then stage a beating, with the man ripping the fake baby out and eating it.

Thoughtful reaction will be the night's specialty.

It's Okay To Be Very Gay

Go to the closes homo-bashing picketing. Usually they're at soldier's funerals or wherever people are suffering and need some ignorance in their lives.

Get a same sex partner. One of you should dress as a very flamboyant homosexual (the cartoonier the better), the other should be dressed as a symbolic figure of anti-gayness, like a priest, a nun or a housewife. Got the riot separately. The one of you acting as a gay should pay attention to not be killed before the staging starts.

Pretend to meet randomly, playing your parts. The (for example) priest, should go overboartd with "gays are an abomination" slogans. T%he gay should speak with a lisp, blast out Donna Summer or Lady gaga from a boom box and scream "we're here, we're queer".

Fake attack each other in a burts of violence, then start making out and having sex in public. have the priest screaming "Oh fuck god, he doesnt have a cock like this!".

Disurption abounds

Music For Your Pockets (And a Tiny Rant): Fox Jaw Bounty Hunters "The Devil In Music"

Ok, let's make a deal.

I'm going to give you a chance to test another awesome band that i think doesnt have the recognition they deserve. If you trust me, you'll get the album, listen to it, love it and after that you'll support the band. I'll give you a couple of links where you can do that, and you'll have to. Why? Let me explain.

Life is pointless without music. Oh i know, you have plenty of important things in your life that you think make it special and fuilfilled. Or you tricked yourself into thinking that you dont have time to devote to music because your sweat stinking cubicle is all your head seems to care about.

But yeah, there's no need to live, if music isnt in your life. Music is one of the main elemnts of living and of being human, like love or sex. You need music, because its the most pure way to get emotions, feelings and sensations to your heart and mind in an instant way. P?eoplpe who create it are giving their heart to you.

So, Music isnt disposable, its a tangible thing that has to be supported and bought. You have to give a musician money as the due tribute for the gift, the special, amaziong gift, they've given you. You cannot take it and ingore it, or treat it like its a pointle4ss thing to fill time and silence with. Some musicians out there make lives better. More than anyone else, and the main thing thbey ask is a bit of support. So if you dont give it, you're a scumbag.

Dont say you cant afford it. Have you eaten today? Have you bought some stupid thing you di not need? Have you made phone calls? Have you spenty money on any things that was really necessary? Then youre not "Poor". If you say that, you're a liar. You MUST support music, it's all we have to keep us from being walking dead. And musicans must be encourage to make more.

Fox Jaw Bounty Hunters are from Ireland, and make a mixture of the bristling energy of roc, the soul shredding beauty of blues and a lot of deep, moving doses of roots music.

Under the elctricity, the mood, the bluegrass/folk touches and the great, soulful, smokey voice (makes me think of mark lanegan) there's just an album that moves the heart and makes the booty shake.

So, take a Bite

Then, get the album on the great Bandcamp

Seriosuly, do it.

The Pill And The Damage Done

Recently, the person i possibly love most in the world, if not more than that, is facing a very bad time in her life. So, in her words, she tried to escape once from the pain and stress of her condition with the help of codine. It was an occasional thing. She is strong and i trust her knowing better, but it was enough of a call back to personal demons to make my blood cturn to ice with black terror.

It's the idea of needing something for "escape" that frightens me, because its basically the blood that fuels the addiction that runs through my life and my family's life before that and still is the most constant presence in my existence.

People talk about addiction in the most colourful ways. Some call it a choice and a weakness of character. Others call it a disease. It's both and neither of those things, to me. I have the strong belief that the majority if not the totality of people have had or have some sort of addiction to them.

There's also people who define themselves as "addictive personalities", which is such a cop-out sentence, its almost disgusting. I heard it uttered by people, like it was some bragging statement on their "lust for life" and their tendency to crave things they like or enjoy. That is bullshite and it is offensive to people who experince the real thing. It's similar to disgruntled teenagers naming their ordinary bad days as depression.

Addiction isnt fun. You can do drugs and not necessarily be addicted. And no, even if you like chocolate or coffee a lot, it will never be a real addicition.

I have a bunch of distinct memory that come up to my head when i try to define what addiction is.

One is my mother, at the dinner table, so drunk she cannot hold her food or drool. She isnt tipsy or very drunk, she is somethiung beyond that. She litterally cannot speak and spews un-chewed food and drool all over herslef. And then, while i try to tell her to stop, she gathers all her strength, left lucidity and cohordination to pour herslef another glass.

Another is a daily feeling to me. I used to bge an addict to many things. aI am a sleeping pill addict now. And all those spirals start and live the same way. It 's one thought:

"I just need this, to feel good for a moment. Only this time"

I am not saying this in a preachy way. That thought is not a lie. Every time its true. And every time it gets its claws deeper.

The consequences of that simple sentence are always the same. I used to go out to social gatherings and needed to drink, because i felt that the reptition of life trapped me. Because my head would never stop thinking. Because being around others and putting on a pleasant mask was torture, and after a few minutes in a pub, i needed to get drunk quick and strong, so alcohol would ease my inhibitions and make me not care about what was happening and make me indifferent to what my head was elaborating. Cause it made the despair less edgy and the complete loneliness i feel even when i'm surrounded by a bunch of people, less painful. And because being drunk made things easier.

And it was the same with drugs. The good was shorter and shorter but it was good enough to forget the side efects. And the moments between those were harder and harder, so i always incresed the dosage and stopped taking breaks. And my brain, who's a son of a bitch, just stopped giving me the good thing and made everything look the same. No more high and lows. But at that moment i needed to do it just not to feel ten times worse.

And that couldve been anything.

Now its antidepressants and sleeping piulls. It started as a test. my father did those, and he rshurgged it off with an "it's just pills". He always was like that. He doesnt believe in addiction and rehabilitation. He always said that a man has the right to do whatever, even if it kills them. He started giving me those pills when i was a kid., cause every night my mother got drunk and spent the night screaming as loud as she could, he wanted me to shut up and sleep, so he gave me Tavors and Xanax.

Then i started taking them myself. they made me feel at peace. Good. The best high, with cocaine. A moment of indifference and peace.

But themn it became harder and harder, cause the effects were incresignly difficult to obtain. I increased the dosage. Mixed them with alcohol. Most of the time it wasnt with suicidal purposes. I knbew that was a possibility but it was like gambling. If it worked it worked great. If it didnt, whatever.

And it became throwing up. Fainting. Having withdrawal.

Now i'm cleaner, but i still take a lot of those, every night. I have to. If i dont, pain, panic and terror fill me up like a bursting bubble. I need to organize my days around them. when i trtavel, i need written stuff by doctors to be able to bring those with me. Once, i lost my backpack, which had my pills in it and had a panick attack in public. I wanted to kill myself.

They dont even work anymore. All they do is make me feel worse.

I also have to face people telling me "why dont you just quit?". And everytime i want to punch them. No one understands until they try.

And this thing scarred me forever. I dont like being around people anymore. My days are often mechanical, try to keep my head into a routine so the craving will be under control. An d i'm more tired each day. All i would lo0ve some times is for all of it to be over.

There's still moments that make me forget. And make me feel like i can work it out, and maybe clean up, one day. They're short moments but strong.

I dont know if this will ever end, but some hope is there. Thanks ViVi. Thanks Daniel. Thanks Tony. And mostly thanks Rhi. Hold my hand so i can hold yours.

Music For Your Pockets: Rival Sons "Pressure And Time"

Well, like whatever sort of music you want. the important thing is that you love music. I have no time and stare with suspicion to someone who doesnt have music in their life, honestly.

That sais, there's some types of music, i think anyone should enjoy, even if they're used to different stuff. Some types of music that improve life on a wide levl and make it special with shiny, heart meltin awesomeness.

Rival Sons, with this album, deliver that type of stuff. The sound is quuintessential bluesy rock inspired by The Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, Black Crowes, Cream, The Who. If you wanna go deeper the sound on this one even reminds me of the awesomenss of old school black music from Motown. There's a lot of the booty shakin power of Funkadelic in these tracks. And something that Jack White was tryinbg to achieve with his later projects. That good.

Their MySpace (Support The Band!): http://www.myspace.com/rivalsons

Take a Bite

Inherit The Venom

Rcently, me and my friend Srah, had an exchange of opinions on what a parent owes to his children, specifically if they owe them love and if love is an essential condition to parenting.

Partly, after reflecting about it, i think she is right: love is essential to having children and giving them love is a fundamental condition. Still i think that is limited to their earlier ages. As a parent you have to give them a basic loving place where they can plant the seeds of their adulthood. A scarred person casues the kid to be destined to be a messed up adult, although i REFUSE to put the blame on parents for a person problems.

I think a person's personality is influenced on how they're nurtured and what they lived in since and their upbringing, but at the moment they have a developed brain and the possibilities to learn what actual right or wrong is and what it is to be a decent person, if they dont, its ONLY their fault.

I've been having aslo a discussion on gender and sexual orientation that has also taken an interesting turn in that direction. No matter how many times the topic gets spinned around, i think there is only one truth: sexual identiuty is something you're born with. It has nothing to do with your upbringing or what you're taught you should be.

My family know next to nothing about my sexuality or orentation, and my trips into bisexuality. They're homophobes, even if they tried to became more open minded in their later age. Their only hint to what i tried and felt was when they read a book i wrote where i masked my experimentations as fiction. I used that trick to test their reaction and they were indifferent or opnely disgusted. So i never spoke about the topic again. My father, while he would never admit it in public, thinks homosexuality is a disease or an ill decision. Because of some spects of his personality, people have rumoured about his sexual orientation in the past, and that, sinc ehe is a small weak, angry man with lots of complexes has turned him inot a disgusted gay basher with a disdain for outed people. He would be possibly, although its mostly a feeling, one of those people who would have either excluded me from his life or tried corrective therapy, if id didnt hide myself from him and never touched the issue.

I am a straight man that has recently embraced bisexuality in a more open way. he will never know about it, unless people tell him (which might happen after this post) and even if we ever address the issue (which we wont), i will deny everything. I dont want to share my soulw ith him. Ever.

That's one thying i feel i inherited from my family: anger, and fear. I'm a fuck up because of my own choices, as i seem to be reminded by friends and loved one lately. I could've been in a much better situation today if i didnt mess up every choice i made. And its only my fault. But the way i approach it, the desire to hurt others to numb the hurt i feel, comes from what i saw and somehow still see in my house.

My mother is unhappy and she drinks to feel less so. After drinking she reaches a state where she drools over herself. But she will never act to be better, she doesnt want to. She doesnt care. And my father, which no matter what is the closest thing she has to a famnily, even if thers no love between them, will never do anything either. But what they do is get angry and attack each other and me.

I learned i have it in me too. I mess things and daily i fight this ball of pain and rage screming in my head. I see the emsses piling up and all i want is to hurt myself or others while knowing that wont solve anything. Its all that i feel though.

I inherited that from my cradle. But the fact that i'm a failure is my fault. Everytime someone slaps me in the face on how many things i did not accomplish and all the errors i made, i know they're right. But at the same time, all i want is to hurt them.

I am trying to improve. Not sure if it is too late.

A Virus With Shoes

I realize daily, at the ripe age of thirty tree, that the ultimate state of preservation for a man, and the one that is harder to obtain is complete self sufficiency. And i'm not talking about the economic or social aspect. Well, its not all of it.

The most imperfect aspect of man as a crature is its inherent dependency on interaction and other member of its species for survival. But also how its own unique nature makes that interaction one of the grimmest sources of pain and trouble in his existence.

Take any person. Take yourself. Think of all the problems you're facing. Think of the main ones. Somehow they are all related to interaction with others or issues that are related to that. And the ones that arent related to that, like illness, are made worse by the interaction with other humans.

If your body is in pain what enhances the suffering? Dealing with the ones who do not understand you, the ones who cover you with fake pity, ignorance, cruelty, indifference, excessive care.

And sometimes, caring for someone who is ill, brings also a rain of hurt even in your interaction with them. Seeing them go is painful. Not being able to fix them is painful. And sometimes, loving them is painful. Trying to tell them you're there and realizing it doesnt matter is painful. No one can make you feel worthless like someon you love.

And addiction. It's a spiral. There's a reason for additcion being basically a constant presence in the life of everyone. Most of the time addicts are trying to fix damages made by others to their souls. Or to ease the pain caused by facing other people daily. They dont have to be cruel: some times the mere existence of some people hurts others. Simply because some times, people arent mean to exist together without intentionally or unintentionally hurt each other with words, or phrases.

A man fights unemployement and money problems. The frustration of facing disappointments daily, makes him self absorbed and egotistical. He shies away from friends and becomes obsessed by his one track minded quest for a better life. So he isolates himself. H iuis hurt by everything. Everything reminds him of his failure. His friends tell him, maybe jokingly, maybe not, how that attitude made him miss chances. And that hurts him more and makes him shut down. He numbs the pain with booze and drugs, cause that is easier. And the side effects make him loose grasp even more.

A person that wants to fix the wounds that life inflicts wit the help of something external isnt always the bad guy. you have no idea what pain he is getting through. But theres also a degree of villainous elfishness there that makes him only focused on his own momentary numbness and his need to feel better, if only for a minute. And he doesnt care how seeing him do that hurts the ones who love him. They should understand. And to a point they do. But It hurts, cause it feels like nothing they can say or do will help and they will only be able to watch while it happens.

So maybe one day they have scars of their own to numb.

And the cycle goes on.

For all the good it brings, love is also a disease that hurts and is spread frpom one person to another through tiny little moments that slowly but surely break people.

Than you either dry up and live without ever caring for anyone, hurting people so you dont get hurt. And one day you wake up and suddenly you realize that it is not only easier to stop feeling, but you kinda feel better, almost good, in living only for yourself. But its hard to cease being human.

So the other way is quitting. They say its the cowards way out. And it does destroy everyone else around you. Cause everyone you leave behind will have to bear that burden forever. So the cycle goes on.

I wish there was a way out. Some days i see it. Some i dont. Today i dont.

Music For Your Pockets: My Own Holiday

This post is a test for a section of the blog i wanna try. It might be discontinued anytime, or last, not sure what to do of it yet. Still, i wanna give it a try. here, in the midst of my usual ramblings, ill post and share with y'all an album i just discovered or particularly enjoyed. If you know me, you also know that music is as important as oxygen to me. And that i love to share it with others. So if you read this, you might love my suggestions, or feel like dropping yours in the comments or write me to promote your music. Everything is evolving but music stays awesome.

This band is a delight: warm, gritty, southern tinged blues rock, with great guitars and soulful vocals. This record is perfect as a soundtrack for this depressive monday, or for any day of the week when you need to create a heartful, magical moood, while still rockin your ass out.

Reccomended if you like Aerosmith, Led Zeppelin or ZZ Top. Or just cool Bluesy Rock.

Chek them on Reverbnation

Take a Bite

Leaving Love Out For Better Living

I've been informed that today is Father's Day. I wont celebrate it.

I'm not against society pushed holidays that make people remember about things they should understand on their own, like Valentine's Day. But i dont need to say "i love you" to my father or be thankful to him, not even today. Because i'm not.

I dont think i should feel ashamed of that. I realized, getting older, that feelings are supposed to be natural and sometimes, they just fade away for some reason or another. People usually force themselves into "fixing" things or "reconnecting" with people. And in my opinion all they do is make things worse.

I do not love my father. He did good thgings for me, i will always remember them. He is not a bad person. And not a really good one either. He's flawed like evryone else. But i do not feel love for him, no matter what. I feel moments of affection at times, especially when i realize that he is old and frequentlyill. I still try my best to take care of him and i will be next to him till the end if he end up in the hospital again. But thats because he is my father and i feel that being a man, also includes getting over even the worst rivers of shit and be close to the ones in need. Its not about making things right, cause nobody does. But i have a conscience and a dignity so i wont be one of thoase ridiculously callous people who dont show at a father's deathbed to prove some useless point.

Still, nothing to celbrate. He helped me into existence, took care of me, fed me. We dont love each other and theres nothing to celebrate.

And i think this attitude would make a lot of lives better, if applied correctly. You dont have to love most people. You dont choose your family and you dont have to get along with them. You can move on and have separate, mutually uninterested lives. Bew there if you're needed. Do that for yourslef. But for the rest, get over it. Its almost impossible to get along with blood relatives and in-laws and you really dont have to.

You can quit loving a person. Seems like everyone wants to fix relationships, fix marriages, compromise. All good, buyt sometimes its just an exercise in self hurting. If you realize its over, move over. Dont stay together for the memories. Not even for the kids. Your kids will sufffer ten times more in a household made by two people who cant stand each other. You will end up resnting them too cause theyre forcing you together, and that wouldnt be fair. It would poison their mind.

You can quit loving someone that still loves you too. It happens. There comes a moment when you realize something's wrong. That you dont feel like giuving anymore. That something is broken. That you need to get away to keep your mind together. It will hurt. You'll hurt others. You'll feel bad. But the lie would be much much worse cause liying helps, a lot. But in the end it eats you up like a virus and corrodes your sould, turning everything into rotten misery. And you cannot wake up withou feeling like death. So be an asshole, if you have to and go away, before it gets worse. Burn the bridges. Stop the haemorraging. What's done is done.

It happens to firendships too. Most friends you choose and are there in the brightest times and in the darkest hours. But then things die. And you need to move on. Even if people get hurt. Forcing things would just mkill you inside.

And yes. You can stop loving your own kids. I dont have any. But even if the absolute love you feel for them seems like it will last forever, everyone i know has reached a moment when it became clear that them and their spawn were two separate entities. Maybe they were grown up. Maybe they wer just never meant to be parents. In that case, still, be there and pretend as much as you can. Until they find someone to replace you with. You fucked up when you had them, and you owe them sanity.

As for the rest, love your pets. They're the only ones whose love lasts forever.

I wanna Be Your Toilet: A Cautionary Tale Of Self Hatred

Once upon a time, in a more simple world, where thoughts were more binary and events were more linear, the boy and the girl used to be in love.

The boy was never a popular person. He wasnt an utter failure, he could handle life, in his own way, but he got enough awkwardness and scars in his head and heart to be completely crippled in the way he handled strong feelings. He tried and failed so many times that he just became content with his condition of exploiter of short bursts of feelings, short term relationships and one night stands. Then he realized she was still there.

He used to have a crush on the girl since he was a kid. She came in his life, usually with other guys, and somethign about her, the way she movied and the way she gave vibes through her eyes, always made him feel differently than anything else. He had learned since the first moment he saw her, moving thorugh the corridors of high school that he would've been glad to emabarass himself for her.

And he did. He courted her, obsessively, like Steve Urkel. He wasnt ugly or a nerd but he never really learned what he was supposed to do when it came to actual love. All he knew was how you handled stupidity with alcohol and drugs and how to have sex as an accident. But he didnt know how you loved someone. So he ended up just being ridiculous and over the top. With flowers, poems, songs, gifts. With drunken revelations on a dancefloor, which ended with her just pushing him away and going with a more confident person, some time a friend of his, that like male friends do, took the first move on her not because he wanted to, but to prove who's stronger.

He shed tears and even humiliated himself on television show. That was another story and a mess too.

Then years passed and he changed. They were both ugly ducklings and they both blossomed in their own way. He became more confident, she became sexy. And one night they randomly found each other, kissing in the moonlight in an alley, while cars passed them and honked. That was the peak of a courting that went on for years and would mark them forever. They blasted off like fireworks and a sentence like "I will love you forever, no matter what" still meant something then.

They made love everywhere and sucked out the force of the world to light up their own universe where a sweaty bed and lots of silent stares wer all that they needed for unlimited time.

It took only a year to fizzle out. It was an intense year, they gave it all. And they ended up without strength. She wanted to move on and he didnt know how to hold on to her. She told him they needed to talk and left him sitting and waiting on a doorstep for hours. Not even almost dying a thousand times and falling into a pit of sticky knives made of pills wouldve hurt that bad again. Waiting to hear "go away", and crying. And understanding that no matter what he did, or what she said, what was once safe and strong and the center of their world had just died.

He crawled out of that hole but he never was the same again.

After years of bad friendships, nails in coffins, fake feelings, drugs, and self destruction, she popped up again. he didnt know what she wanted. She probably didnt know either. They tried to be friends again.

They traveled. It seemed to make sense. But she wouldnt fuck him. It shouldve been a red flag but he was holding his head together barely those days. He was taking all sort of pills to stop his head from screaming tone deaf songs into his heart, So even that was helping somehow.

But there was so much weirdness. She treated him as a boyfriend one day then ran away the day after.

And still they traveled. They went to Majorca one month. She was making a choice, to go away forever, to change her life for the millionth time. He was barely able to sleep without popping up all sort of meds. He didnt know what to with it. And "it" was everything.

And it was hell. It was endless days of cold hearted discussions and sentences with nothing in them. Of moodswings and cruel indifference and jabs that were done just to hurt. Cause hurtin sometimes is like a drug.

One night, in that sticky air, full of mosquitos and humidity, where you can smell the love of others, they were sleeping in the same bed. He had kissed her feet and she had told him to die.

A door was opened and a man entered the room.

The boy was knocked out by sleeping pills, dreming of arm wrestling with Chuck Berry. She tried to wake him and at first he didnt answer. She thought he had been killed and she would get raped by the stranger, who just stood on the door silent.

The boy woke up, turned on the light. She was in tears. The man stood there and stared. What would he do? He would kill the guy, for her. No matter what, even if it meant getting killed. He would have to. Not for honour. Just to end that shit.

The stranger just said "Sorry, i got the wrong room" and ran away.

The girl went to the hotel's reception and shouted "A nigger enetered my room".

He tried to console her but nothing would fix it. Whatever was still floating died right there.

When she finally fell asleep, he went into the bathroom. He closed his eyes and thought of the past. He masturbated in silence. And he swore he would survive.

They never talked to each other again

Moments of Extreme Surrealism

As an excessively self aware man, who constatly tries to find logic in the world and justify everything that happens or the actions of people, simply because i refuse to give up to the fact that most of the world makes no sense, i keep encountering moments of scary surrealism.

You dont have to be a geniuys to see those. There's something in the interaction of human beings, something that maybe is rooted in our weird animal nature or maybe is due to some strange overlooking power with a weird sense of humour.... Something that plunges everyone of us into situations that we would've probably seens as gtrotesque or unreal if we ever witnessed them with detached outsider eyes. All one needs, when you find yourself trapped into those, no matter how unpleasant they are, is to detach yourself from them and observe the situation as a stage play gone out of control.

A few examples:

The Modern Job Interview

Once upon a time, job interviews were about job abilities and about doing a job or eventually presenting your nepotism based credentials/sexual favours. Now thats still in action but in many occasions you'll be presnted with the "artsy surrelaits theatre play about the oppression of individuals" version of it. Remember (if you ever read about them, dont expect you to have actually seen them) those weird hippie things (movies or whatever) where people had to do illogical things in weird rooms in order to please humourless authority figures? Close.
My latest job interviews (considering that looking for a job, nowadays is required also for people who already have one) contained:

- solving a weird game on paper like "match the three images" in under 30 seconds
- answering questions like "if you could be one of our products which one would you be"
- seeing a guy who cannot read properly without pointing his finger on the paper and never went to school, being hired at a highly qualified position

The Facebook Zoo

Once upon a time, a jewish nerd with a relatively normal face, deicded to create a way for people to actually keep in contact with each other, meet new friends and socialized with the help of the shapeless immensity of the Web.
Cue to years after anbd what you have is a place where people virtually stab fingers in each other, freak out over invites to happenings that will not actually take place (Event: my kitty's new shoes! RSVP), play to fake videogames that are an excuse to give each other spam, stalk each other even when they didnt use to do that, communicate through openly irritating comments (what do you say to a person which "likes" everything? is that a form of flirting?), create drama or wrongness into anything and basically bust balls.
And everything is searchable on google, even the private stuff. Yeah, i know you think its "phunneeeeee", but could you stop posting links to weird applications and groups that spam my email? dont make me punch you.

And the alternative to that is a place where people shout non seuqiturs at each other in 140 characters. I get it now, this is a trick by the jews to create chaos. Damn Zuckerberg, id hit you if you didnt look like a guy that woiuld probably chew my fist off.

The Project Game

Wwhen you start a rpoject where you're putting your heart and being all enthusiastic about it, chances are there's a main person who places funds in it and is supposed to be the driving force. Someone whose presence is more important than yours and has power to decide the life or death of the project. Well, following the surrealist law, this guy is usually a complete nutjob.

Inject a well needed dose of sarcastic pessimism into your heart and expect this laughable events:

-Said person asks for a million reworking of the project because he isnt really convinced. Nothing specific, it just doesnt feel "right". "I cant explain, its something, just do it again, cmon...."
- They set changes to the project that dont make any sense and make it look stupid or give active roles to their spuses or best friends. the project becomes laughably stupid.You cant say anything cause they have the money and you dont.
- They have weird phases of complete silence where you cant reach them after pulling several sleepless nights on the work. You get panicky and desperate. Then they pop up, ignore your complaint and suddenlya sk you to "start working for real"
- That will happen almost all the time: They will drop from the project and blame it on you. It will happen in a devastatingly passive aggressive way, in silence and with no explanation. Lies will be told, things that make no sense will be said. You will go crazy.

The forementioned points can be applies to "projects" ona more philosophical level as marriages, relationships, firendships. Failure has a weird pattern in its development and tends to look that way. The logical way to react is get back on track and start new things but despair is understandable

I have more but you'll have to wait.

Time To Blow Up Stuff

A couple of points to help you understand whats behind this posts and try to catch the core message:

- I live in Italy and i am proud of being in this country. No matter what happens and how bad things go here, i will never reject my country. Even if i move away, i will never deny my origins or forgert where i was born, like many people seem to do. Time to open your eyes, europeans who move to the US: even if you have a job there, a family and your precious greencard that you bought by selling your dignity and pretendinbg to be part of the utopia, you'll still have your own country inside of you. You might scream about being in the number one country (the one with the gold medal) all you want but, depp inside you'll know that you're not fully american and that ignoring the place you come from is a low move. I wont do that, ever.

- I know that for you Stars And Stripers the universe begins and ends in your continent and sometimes in your state and since you live in the "Best Country evah", you feel entitled to ignore the fact that the rest of the world has issues and things that do not include you. Most italians dont give a fuck about Jersey Shore, we're fighting a struggle for survival and to keep our rights here. I know that you guys are used to not vote or ever read anything and wait with your fat ass on a couch for someone to fix your issues or tell you things will be alright. Still in the rest of the world, people fight for their rights.

- Recently ive been facing the issue of being incresingly unabel to pay debts, working at a ridiculous wage and fighting to find a second job. Learning daily how disastrous the economic situation of this country is and how in desperate need of a change most of my countrymen are. How that situation can break somebhody's soul, driving them towards apthy, depression and crime. How hard it is to stay clean and still try.

That said, a couple of days ago, my country spoke and, for once, i wasnt disgusted.

Four referendums were made, a couple of them on key issues. One in particular on a strong, difficult subject: voiding a law made by the actual government to allow our inanely corrupt Prime Minister to escape any legal consequence of his actions.

The media, controlled by the rotten politicians in power (and i'm aware of how conspiracy like this sounds, but its the complete truth) tried to make the referendum useless by pushing people towards abstaining and blocking any sort of information about it. They wanted to use, as they often did, the country's natural tendency towards apathy and indifference, against itself.

For once, it did not work. The turnout was high enough to allow the results to count and they were insanely high. People were saying that they are tired of being crushed.

And still, on social networks, indifference is loud. Seems that now that things were going well for once, people feel the need to state loudly how pointless, trying to exercise democracy in our country is. Disgusted sarcasm is the new policy.

This morning, reading the news, i noticed a tidbit that was almost being ignored by the main channels. A minister, speaking at a conference in Rome, answered an attempt at dialogue by a local representative of Temp Workers, by silencing her and dropping the statement "Temp Workers are the scum of this country". Then rushing away while his minions threatened anyone who wanted to react. A politician whose "job" is to make the country work, and who caused the precarious situation of the employement in the country decided to address the workers as "scum". Like an old century noble man who decicded to spit on the poor for fun.

The reactions between the few who learned (as the news are still weirdly hidden) were angry and yet, the feeling i got was of a genral "heh, what can you do?".

And there i say it: is it, maybe, time to embrace weapons. Is it time to use brute force to act? If demo0cratic actions and dialogue seem to be ginored, maybe its time to push the people into revolution. Maybe it's time to scream, since talking at a civilized volume is not loud enough.

I'm tired of realizing that no matter how hard we try, nothing we do counts. I'm tired of realizing that i'm part of a country thats, at better, treated as a cute pet by foreigners. I'm tired of being surrounded by defeat.

I'm not moving, and i'm getting pissed

The One Thing I Cannot Avoid

It saeems to be one of those things that will survive all wars, changes and evolutions in human nature. Disappointment is the major constant in humanity. Not love, not hate. As long as hope exists, as long as people have a soul, disappointment will hit them and sometime will break their heart.

There's something a discussion with a dear friend of mine brought to my mind: no matter how tough, thick skinned, jaded and with a strong view of reality's flow, everyone deeply within hopes for life to go as they want. It doesnt happen on a large scale, it's a bunch of tiny hopeful moments, of expectations for events to be great and beautiful, for people to act in some way, for days to bring something that will give you a boost or a chnge.

The heart lies to itself , because facing the truth is too painful for anyone. Disappointment hurts and a lot of heartbreak is disappointment taking a different shape. Some people seem to be immune, but in those cases they often are people who are used to have things their way or have a personality that in some way, adapts to what happens and makes things work. To speak in layman terms: a lot of person have hardened to a point that no matter what happens they will exploit the situation in their favour, not caring about the consequences. Or they fel entitled to hurt others cause their own pain is high enough that no one else's really matter. And then there's the others.

You will tell yourself wou will not make the same mistakes again and not put your heart into something. But then it slips out of your g4rip and things dont go as you secretly wanted them to. Even if you didnt really want anything special, even if all you wanted was to have something different to make the day less grey and less toneless than others. In the end, you're not special. You're replacebale. You're forgettable. And njo matter how you know you have no right to feel hurt, you feel hurt anyway.

And you have hopes for a million little moments in your future. You want that day to be good enough to be memorable. You know it wont and you tell yourself, it doesnt have to be a big deal. And in the end it goes away, slipping through the cracks an without barely making a sound. Doesnt leave a great memory, and the time has passed by with little to no conseuence.

You hope things will eventually change sometimes. You remember when you were a kid and you faced the hard times hoping for a moment, in your twenties or thirties, where you would maybe not be succesful or realized but you wouldve done something different. Then time disappears and youre there dying one day at a time, with more disppointments than actual dreams come true. And you keep folowing lights that will take you nowherte, link yourself to hopes that have no possibility to become true, people who have no place for you in their life for more than a momentary healing of their wounds, just a second before replacing you with someone fresher and more available.

Yeah, its all your fault. You know it and you would give everything to learnh how to face it without being shattered again and again. Cause even when its a small thing, it kinda hurts. But as long as you have a heart, it will feel that pain. And some days all you can do is write a blog entry.

Compromising with The Beast

A strong element o0f my constant search for balance is and has always been the struggle to keep away from apathy and numbness, but at the same time avoid excessive emotions to overcome my brain.

The worst symptoms of my brain's dysfunktion are fundamentally two:

1) A mixture of panic and despair thet hits me at random points, making me run for cover at random points, and making me basically unable to relax and feel "well" or even slightly at ease unless i take time to actually do it as i'm doing work. Most of my days are a Russian Roulette round where at any given moment a blast of despair and fear could hit me. So when i actually have time for myslef, more often than not i have to keep myself constantly busy, to avoid that from happening. Or i simply give in to staying still ans staring at the void, unable to actually do anything. That causes a lot of misunderstanding, between the people who have to deal with. They seem to mistake my attitude as a lack of interest towards them or their company, where actually i would enjoy it but if i want to stay balanced i need to either be constantly working or simply keep to myself or be surrounded by people i dont really know.

2) A seemingly unstoppable anger that, if let loose, is quite dangerous, especially to myself. Details pile up. Everyday a bunch of big things will follow, one after the other. Lately, ive been struggling with money and a desperate need for a new job and facing the hard, cold truth of the total failure of my country. I've been facing the ignorance and argumentative stupidity of people on many arguments: the lack of intertest towards changing things used as a valid argument, the vast lack of empathy of people who seem to ignore anyone else's feelings or trouble to focus only on their own needs. An inevitable consequence of that piling up, i have days where i am litterally imploding and feel the need to attack, whether it's anyone or myslef. Everyone is an enemy in those days. EVERYONE.

In both cases, the natural reaction would be medicated numbing, comnplete indifference and slefishness (which i still think could be justified and will be eventually a place i go soon) or a total fast relapse into self destruction. The only reason that holds me out of a relapse into alcohol binging is that my body cant deal with it anymore, so getting drunk means a whole day of hangover pain that pushes the pain toa whole different level. And the only reason i'm not stuffing myself with sleeping pills (more than i already do) until i go in a comna, is that i still have things i have to do.

So, i wont say i'm a person who found peac e, i'm far from that. Each day is a struggle for balance. I wake up each morning with suicidal thoughts as my first waking image. I'm not complaining, its how this head works. I have hope cause i know i'm strong and i have met a few people whoa re giving me exactly what i need: not resolutions or attempts to change what i am forcefully but accepting and love. Where the majority of people seem to be focused on telling me WHAT I SHOULD DO TO FIX MYUSELF or worse FELLING SORRY FOR ME, these few people just give me warmth and a soul hug. That helps. So if you hyave someone clos to you who is having these problems, just give them a kiss.

Levels of Learning....

I have very strong belief in one point, and it's one of my most unpopular opinions (and i hae a lot of those, not out of choice). I will say this and you should feel free to debate it, if you want (although i kinda know you wont):

For the most part, if not it's absolute totality Education (as in school and in particular the more specialized levels of it, including college) is completely useless. I'm honestly convinced that investing money in obtaining Masters, Degrees and even Diplomas is equivalent to throwing said money in a paper shredder. If i ever have a kid, i will have him sent to basic school to learn the fundamentals (reading, writing, counting, socializing and facing authority) but for the rest he will be free AND if he wants to do it he will have to pay for part of it with a part-time job.

See, i think most people who go to school, especially people who try to obtain Masters and High Level Specializations are fundamentally doing it to procrastinate the tough choices that actual life forces you to face. i know thats what i did for my part. Families always tend to believe that, by invesdting money in their children's education they will help them "shaping" their personality or worse "their future". At an even sadder level, there's an increasing number of parentsa who feel the duty of having their sons and daughter learning how to play some musical instrument, art for or (more logically) a sport.

Honestly, that is strongly delusional: a child develops his personality in a series of ways, and one of those is also school, but besides, as i said, the basics, all the rest is superflous and can be done with no excessive money investment and in more productive way: in the real world.

Part of an individual's personality comes from his family and upbringing. And that doesnt necessarily means, in my opinion, that you have to shere to specific rules in order to raise a child well. I think they will absorb something good and something bad from your peronality in any case. Also, they will absorb the way they face life according to the type of vibes they had around them while bringin up. My family gave me honesty, conscience and dignity but also fear, insecurity and loneliness.

Also, interaction with others help. An only child is a lonely person. Part of its ability to socialize will be made with other kids, but if he doesnt have a brother, it will be harder. Only kids arent necessarily spoiled. there's people with brothers or sisters that are way more spoiled than others. And theres a large number of parents who openly love one of their children and completely ignore the others. Which is also a lesson in how life works.

But only kids have to deal with loneliness for their whole life. And theres no education to overcome that flaw.

All the rest, can be learned by working and dealing with people.

Recently, a worker from a job placement agency, told me in a burst of honesty how in modern times "a degree or a specialization are a minus and not a plus, since they arent real experience and legally they require the firm to pay you more". So actual titles get you less possibility of work.

The only real currency is working a lot. Breaking your back and getting tough. I have regretted the time i wasted on books and in classes a million times, and i would never do it again. There's exceptions to that but they're rare and most of them have large financial backings from families that allow them to live in a pretend world where dreams and aspirations can be followed and eventually become true. Which isnt the case, unless you're a rich daddy girl or boy.

The only way to obtain something is by fighting and education isnt fighting. Its theory and theory is worthless.

The New Curse....

You never thought it could happen to you. You were so lively, sharp and edhy. You lived your life to the fullest, always on the cusp, keeping your body in shape and your mind awake and perky. And then....

It happens. Your friends like to joke about it. You all laugh, but you're hiding your fear. Cause you know that slowly, and inesorably, you will turn into your parents.

It's the new plague that is destroying the beautiful edginess of our youth. It's the result of an age of commodity, excesses and too many Jersey Shore episodes. It's unstoppable: it's the Old Fart Disease.

You're in your late twenties or early thrities and suddenly these symptoms start to present themselves with increasing frequency:

- You find yourself using the sentences "these kids today" and "back in my day"

- You get incresingly angry in traffic, in lines or in stores and instead of simply blasting off and moving on you loose a scary amount of time, ranting and wagging stuff at people (a rolled newspaper or a finger are basically metaphors for a walking cane)

- Your friends are using the joke "we're getting old" way too much or refuse to do fun stuff in an increasing way cause "they're not kids anymore"

- Everyone is having a baby and it starts to look appealing to you too (or you already have one and you think of how nice it would be to be a grandparent)

- You have an increasing amount of weird physical issues that have nothing to do with illness or actual health problems. That means you find yourself saying "Oh my back! "Oh my ears!" "Oh, Indigestion!"

- You actually find your bowel movements an interesting topic of discussion

- You find yourself discussing the same points over and over, and often they are about inane stuff that no one cares about. People start to look at you with an air of compassionate distress.

- You follow the lives of fictional people in soap operas/reality shows more closely than the lives of real people

- You start thinking that napping all day would actually be good life

- You watch stupid stuff on TV only cause it allows you to tune out and stop thinking. Not cause you're stressed but because your brain is actually enjoying tuning out.

- When you're talking about a movie you use "whatsisname", "that thing" and "that guy" way more than necessary

- You realize that most bands you grew up with are either dead or split up or called "old school" in reviews. Also the tv shows you used to love are now considered "classics"

- You have no idea what people are saying when you read twitter, and when you try to talk like them , they dont understand you.

- Where is that thing? You just put it there? Ah whatever. (Snore).

- You actually talk to your pets more than to humans, and buying them a dress aint that bad. You're turning into a cat lady.

- Your dad has a fiancé younger than you.

I could go on. Add your own so maybe we can all save ourselves, you whippersnappers.

Life Lesson: A Short Story

Sine i decided to keep writing here, no matter what the reaction from the (few) readers are, i'll keep using it my way. So here's another attempt at narration by Mine Truly (i aint yours. sorry)

+++

There was a way to feel when something wrong was about to happen, something seriously wrong, without evn knowing it. He had developed a series of ways to use his senses as one giant third eye that made him understand the coming of the storm before the first drops of rain. And he was usually right.

It was the smell of the house. All he needed was to get across the door and smell the air. Even after he left, that smell would be engrained in his mind, like a weirdly shaped scar. It was a density inb the air, something acrid and wet. Sticky. It could be the smell of smoke, of beer and wine, of sweat and vomit. But it was non of those specifically. There was something that the bodies of the inhabitants of the house started to sweat out that gave a red flag to his nostrils.

Made him think how close to a bunch of feral beasts they really were. Like a pack of wolves, without the respect or the survival instinct and a taste for abuse a mile long. But still giving out smells that could create panic in the heart of the weakest ones, cayse they knew that when that smell started spreading, pain would be served.

The air smelled that way on a day, when he was twelve. And the whole house was silent. No screming, no crying, nothing.

He had come home from a long refuge at his grandmother house, but she had not so politely told him to go away when the sun came down. She did not like him or any of his family members, including her son, his father. It wasnt that weird that his father was what he was, looking back at his familyt. They were a whole genration of hateful people, who reveled into hurting each others and humiliate the weak ones. They took a few protected ones that were worthy of respect and then tormented the rejects in the name of lovelesness. It made sense that a repulsive family would create a repulsiuve person and would just spit on him just cause he was his son. But that was the only place he could go.

He had to go home, though. And when he opened the door that mixture of smell, humidity and silent tension hit him in the face.

She was crying, in silence. She was on the floor, wrapped up in torn clothes. Her face was swollen. Beaten. A grimace of pain and misery that was almost laughable. He had to hold on the revulsion and snark at how pathetic this all was.

He left, apparently. He was in an insane mood. Barely able to stand, full of sleeping pills and antidepressants, the same he would force him to take some time after. He loved to drug himsle fon those when things werent going his way, while his wife chose to fuel her own demons with beer and cartons of cheap wine.

She didnt know what happened or couldnt really explain. They had a fight about nothing, about how they were not supposed to even exist in the same universe, they spewed disgust at each other, clumsily hit each other and then he just ran to the medicines cupboard and wenjt to town. Then ran away.

The floor under the cupboard was full of empty blisters of stuff he dint even recognize.

He ran after him, fearing an accident, fearing the worse.

He was still in the yard. Inside the car. He approached the vehicle, frightened. Knowing that he shouldnt but somehow had to.

The man looked like you would picture your worse bully to be. He never looked like a pleasant person, but at those times, when the chemicals flooded his head, he just turnede into something else. He lost any form of posture or control of his face or limbs. His flaccid facve became yellow and his liver stains more pronounced. He had greying and balding hair, which wehre greasy and scraggy. Even his goatee looked dirty, with specs of food and drool in it. He didnt stink but it felt like he did. He was like a big fat hateful rat, staring at him with unfocused, angry and hateful eyes. Blodshot.

He entered the car. The man was smirking. Something in his body smelled like rotten flesh and came out through his breath which stabbed the air with every single slurred word

"Is the whore still alive?"

"She's Crying. She's worried"

He laughed. Then he snapped and started the car.

"Where are we going?"

"Since you dont let me die here, we'll die on the road. And youre coming too"

He wanted to throw himnsle fout of the car. He knew that was all talk, he wouldnt have done that. He always talked about killing him and himself but never did it. But what if he crashed? whatr if he ended up on a wheelchair?

The car kept driving, his father laughing and swerving, other cars honking.

"Please"

"Fuck you"

He pushed the pedal. They were entering a dirt road, in the middle of the country. It was dark by then. Nothing outside but the remains of junkies and whores. Semen and misery.

"Where are you going"

"I'm going in a dark place and im going to kill you"

"It's not true. You dont have the balls"

"Wanna test me, fag? You came here to cry and beg me to come back, and you wanna be a man, boy? I will DIE and you will die with me! You shoulòdve let me be! If i'm at this point it's just because of you and because i made you with that fiulthy slut!"

How did slepping pills unleash that in himk. It would happen again. Morphine and three cancer opperation and he would be swearing against nurses and doctors, promising to kille them all. How did the man's brain work. What could he do?

He felt tears running down his face. Big mistake. The man Suddenly halted the car. He wouldnt hit him, he never did but....

He started screaming, in a high, weird, raspy pitch. A shriek, made even more sickening by its feminine quality.

"DO NOT CRY! EVER! EVER! MEN NEVER CRY! I WILL CARVE YOUR EYES OUT IF YOU DONT STOP! ARE YOU A FAGGOT!? YOU'RE A MAN! STOP!"

He slapped him. The tears went away, hardly. Silence.

Suddenly he became lucid. Drove back home. For now, it was over. It would get worse.

Gender- Bender

Whatever happened to experiencing sexuality as a playground?

When i was in my age of discoveries, which to be clear, isnt the early teens, that age is more like "the age of the awkward mistakes", i tried to fulifll my ravenous sexual appetite in all the ways my mind could think of. Honestly, i still remember that time, as the greatest and most satisfying period of my life.

In the midst of doing stuff in some sort of excessive way and doing lots of experimantations in the land of drugs and booze, the heart was often dry but sex was funb. There was hardly anything better than pleasing the senses without worryin about actual love., testing stuff for the sake of it, and learning i was or wasnt into something, cause i TRIED.

These days, i keep meeting people who talk abot themselves as "open minded" but then have turn off lists longer than their turn ons, and havent tried most of those. Lots and lots of emotions and feelings, and wanting to save themselves for the right person. Lots of virgins.

Lets clear it up: you have no excuse to be a viurgin. Every justification you come up with is botched and ridiculous. If you're a man, and you say "you can't talk to women", chances are you are a messed up person, you're not even trying and you're making up excuses in order to avoid rejection. Dont try to make it special, it wont be. If talking to the opposite sex is so painful, try a prostitute.

And even more: dont get stuck on your gender or the stereotypes about being STRAIGHT or GAY and dont make them get in the way of you felling good.

To be clear: people have prefrences, and your sexual gender or orientation is something you're born with. Yet, there's a different amount of experimentation and discoveries that some people have to do before they get to be sure of what they desire. And when it comes to simple pleasure, with no feelings involved, to learning how your senses and erogenous zones work, best thing is testing shit out.

I think i am straight. I like women, all of them. I think every single woman on this planet has something about her which is special and wonderful, engagin and arousing. Yet i tried going with guys a couple of times. Ignorant people then would've said (and still say) that was enough to label me as a "freak" or a "queer". I dont feel able to have attraction or anything seriously involving towards a mnan, but i tried sexual play with them, on a few occasion and it felt good. I would do it again, maybe, maybe in three way, maybe not, if it was just for the pleasure.

Still, i like women and i dont feel like being labeled. And i have quirks to my sexuality, like some fetish or S/M, some spice to my stuff. I like vanilla and love too. Does that make me a "freak" and if it does, and i feel good when i do it, is that an obstacle for me?

I think all this thinking, this "is it right if...", this putting rules and barriers, definitons and numbers to sexuality is killing the drive. Fuck whoever and wahtever. Dont feel ashamed. Try stuff out even if its something that you'd never do.

Going in the opposite direction is just going to turn us all into potential serial killers and rapists. Boo.

Energy Level Minus Ten

I dont want to bring this back for a bit more but, since this blog is my onw therapy place, i'll try to sort out my thoughts on here.

Lately, while keeping myself up with the most insane methods, ive been plagued with the constant feeling of being out of fuel. That does not mean i'm "stressed" or "depressed". Both those terms include a possibility of reaction that i dont think i have in my ammo.

The fuel that seemed to dry out from me is participation and passion or interest in anything or anyone. Suddenly i have no interest whatsoever in sharing my thoughts, creating or caring for anything or anyone. I feel like any thought, or action i could make could have little to no bearing on my surroundings and people i love.

There was a point where i realized that something has gone wrong in my life and it got stuck in an icy spot. Whilw i treied to matter, i just never did and still dont. People went by me and improved their life, even being assholes or with disgusting choices. I stood in this spot and lost the few things i had and became an empty spot.

I am not complaining, i am not in pain. I just really do not care anymore, for now. I have bad days and better days but i realized i stopped having any impulse to write or create. I lost interest in pretty much everything that surrounds me, and im surviving through imppulse. I have almost no emotions in me. I dried up and i doubt ill go back to what i was soon, mostly cause i dont see a reason to.

People who want to be there for me are good but the problem is that i am the one who's not there anymore. I stopped caring. It's the same spot i was a long time ago, with no big reason, maybe a bunch of tiny ones. I'm dead inside. Might take a while before i work this one out