Mendacity is the condition of being mendacious; untruthfulness. A lie; a falsehood or untruth. The tendency to be untruthful. The act or process of lying.
Art thou slave of thy maker?
How free from our gene pool are we really? Are we indeed individuals? Do we make our own choices and decide our own fate? Is our judgment impaired by our upbringing? I sometimes feel that no matter how hard I try to exile myself from my family and their ways, that I still find myself to be a product of their influence; their morals, values, attitudes, attributes, beliefs, all that bullshit.
Am I naturally a bitter bastard and a drunk, or is because for eighteen years I watched my father come home every day from a hard day at work to martinis and accumulated anger. Do I bottle up and explode because no one in my family was capable of expressing themselves up until their breaking point? Am I incapable of holding a relationship together because of my parents dysfunctional relationship, am I incapable of not being mean and cruel to the ones I love because that's all I know? Does my nose feel such hunger for powders because my mom used drugs when I was in the womb?
All questions aside I know a couple things to be true. I am hairy, because my dad is hairy. But I'm also compassionate, which I consider a curse, because of my father. I feel no need to believe in gods or masters, because of the teaching and passing on of wisdom from my father.
Most things about me, as abstract and large as practically all my beliefs, to things as simple and insignificant as the shape of my penis, all come from my father. So how much, in reality, am I exactly and individual. I don't know, think about it. Are all our actions unintentionally dictated by our genes or some sick feeling like we need to impress or be like our family members. You might argue; I hate my parents I act nothing like them. But to retort, for those who try to be exactly the opposite as your parents, your parents are still making the moves because you're using them as an example to play the opposite of, thus making them, in turn, the dictator of all your actions.
I dunno, fuck my brain.
"Baby, I'm so sorry, I swear it will never happen again, I'll change" or "Consciousness: mans willingness to change, and lack of effort actually applied"
"we think we're different now, but we're all the same, we'll probably never change." when we are going to bed, we spend our last waking minutes fighting our brains to crash. in that time, the worst of thoughts surface. but today I want to bring up one specific pattern of brain work.
Plans for tomorrow, often when going to bed we begin to think about all the things we want to do the next day, all the things we want to change in our routine, some simple, some huge, "I should call my old friend, hey, I should go on a run tomorrow, start exercising and eating healthy, pick up an instrument, masturbate when I get off work,"
This conjuring up of the dreams of what we need or should do differently quickly escapes into a dark and tormented hole as we think about what we should of done with the day behind us, all the things we told ourselves last night about what we wanted to do differently today.
The truth is, we can think all day about what we want to do, but most of the time, we never actually act on it. I call this tomorrow syndrome, I first coined the term when I realized I was addicted to drugs. I told myself countless times, I'll sober up...tomorrow!
Everyday I spend 9 hours in an office, working the day away and telling myself all the productive things I going to do when I get home, but the truth is, there is no need for foreshadowing, I know exactly what I'm going to do, go home, get drunk, and do nothing. We all know we aren't going to change, deep down inside you know exactly what you are going to do and what you are, even if it makes you sick. But we cheat ourselves into convincing ourselves we really will, it kills me, routine is a bitch, we are creatures of habit. So do me a favor, do something you want to do today. this is my attempt at it, I'm writing, something I've been begging myself to do for a long time.
p.s go fuck yourself
like i just said, i haven't written in a long time, so here's something else from a while ago
I try not to think about it, nuzzle my mug into your stomach, and fall asleep©
It’s hard for me to keep track of the days, they float by and lose their meaning, I forgot the last time the weekend meant anything.Every turn I make is a corner,
I’m stuck in a box shaped like a schedule, and with these fifty hour work weeks, Quality of life has boiled down to late night refrigerated 12 ounce bottles of miller and well-earned, long awaited sleep on an uncomfortable bed Make it through the day, nicotine and caffeine, staring at the clock more than often, once again I’m up to my chin in shit, every workday feels like the worst one.
Cigarette breaks give me something to keep fighting for, and so I smoke too much.
But even the cigarettes don’t keep me sane, I call you on my lunch break just to hear the sound of your voice,
You’re my umbrella when the rain is beating down on me.I know it’ll play out alright, because when I feel fed up with everything, you’re there to light me up and tell me something pretty.
I live my life not day by day, but by the hours, and I’ve spent most of my free time asleep.
But all is well, I wake up next to you.Baby don’t leave me, you keep me from rotting away. You’re the belt that keeps my pants on, the bones that keep my head on my neck, the cup of scotch that keeps my belly warm.
I’d fall into a million puzzle pieces right here in the middle of work if I knew I’d come home to an empty bed.
I do my best not to make a ruckus as I creak the door open and step into our room in the midst of dawn.
I bathe in the comfort of the confirming sound of your slumber, the grinding of your teeth.
I crawl in next to you, as gentle as can be,As I push my way in, you whine a bit and slide into a comfortable crevice, your eyes don’t flinch.I still don’t get how you can sleep like that, wrapped up in two blankets and buried under a fortress of pillows in the summer time, I rub sweat off of you as I trail my fingers across your body and massage you in your sleep.
I get to your shoulders and rub out your knots, wondering how your day was. I try my best to picture it. Serving tropical cocktails and platters of deep fried meat, pulling tables and working your feet into cramps, taking drama queens orders and stuffing them up with a smile.
As I make my way up your neck I get lost in your tattoos and that’s when I wonder. I really wonder. Why do you love me, little baby?
I treasure the ocean of your body and I swear I could cry. Why are you in this bed when you know you could do so much better than this mess of a man
And I’m sorry that we spend most of our time together sleeping. I hope you think about me when you’re at work. Do you? If I had it my way. I swear to you we would live in this bed. Just lay here for awhile.
Maybe forever, leave snow angel indents in this mattress, wear out the pillows and break the bed springs. That’s good enough for me. I’d give up a million past lives to spend one wasting away in bed with you.
Who needs to see a world, follow dreams or make yourself wealthy, my paradise is lying next to you. If only we could spend our time together in a coma.
Neither of us would have to get up and throw on uniforms, waste our nights and days being fake and feeling worthless.
I wish I could block out the sun, paint the windows black, nail the door shut, drop out of this shack of a world and fall into a coma with you, dear.
We could free ourselves from the working man’s post, drop all obligation, write off everyone we ever knew, Live in a world with only me and you, it’d be beautiful.
It would be the only way to make sure you never left me.Don’t try to convince me otherwise.
Oh sweetheart, you know your gonna leave me, one of these days.It’s the only way I could get you to stay.
Let’s detach our brains from our spinal cords and rest face to face with our eyes open. Oh what a dream.
We would lay in our beds with no nurse to change our catheters, we would hold each other close, and shit and piss the bed all year.
We could lay in our waste and not have to worry about it, we’d be together so long they’d be able to smell our existence from freeways miles away.
Although our brains would be numb, our hearts would still beat, we’d lose all feeling, starting with our toes, All the little piggies would run home, our knees would turn blue and our faces grey.
Piece by piece the lights would burn out in our brains and in our apartment, there would be nothing but a dank darkness. We wouldn’t dream, lesions would form from lack of liquid secretion, my balls would shrivel up, your ovaries decay, And our skin would fade and turn to leather.
Our apartment would transform into a catacomb of rotten cadavers and collected dust.And all the thing in our house wont matter, they will be our shrines to show how much money we made, we bought things to try and make us feel better, But now we can see we were truly the fools, it never mattered anyway. The things we own aren’t what make us.
Our bodies would bloat and our guts would break out of our bellies, giving birth to a swarm of maggots who would feed off our sheets until they grew into little splendid flies. This is the only way and you know it, so babe, join me in this mysterious abyss, fall into a coma with me.
From the film reel of our youth we never saw happy endings, the shitty reality of the impermanence of love was shoveled into our mouths when we still wore bibs and sucked our thumbs. A coma is the only imaginable way everlasting love could manage to work. It’s just hard to have hope in a world polluted by court tv, alimony and California family. Just fucking think about it. Children become an obligation, with alternating weeks of custody, do what you can fit your spawn into your busy schedule?
Schedule, work schedules, I’m so sick of this. If I try to stay awake and ride it out, its destined to end a tragedy.We’ll reach the stage when we cling together for the sake of not feeling alone, we’d do all we could to avoid loneliness and hold onto a lost love that has turned into a war.
We’d make the mistake of giving each other too many chances, it would become routine to spit sorry’s into each others mouths, eventually we’d lose sense of taste. We will become butchers of each other, taking apart each other limb by limb, gashes will infect what's left of our hearts.
You’ll become the boots that’s callus my toes and I’ll be the last piece of dirt that’s shoveled over your coffin. As the carbon monoxide builds up in our prison, we will suffocate.
We will break our vows to hurt each other. We’d play sick and funny games, leaving evidence of cheating, purposely in plain sight, as a cowardly way to avoid explaining ourselves.It’s easier if you just hate me.
I’ll be too much of a weasel to tell you I just cant fucking stand you anymore. Your friends would tell you to leave me and you wont.We’d argue for the sake of communication, we’d spend our time together moving chess pieces, always opposing moves, holding the relationship together by pulling ourselves apart.
Complete loss of the sight of the love we thought we knew, we’d only know hurt and the hunger to hurt.It’ll become a sworn rivalry, we’d cling to the memory of the beginning and try to find a shred of something that’s no longer there.
Our words will be razor sharp and leave us desolate, tattered with superficial wounds.We’d scream at the top of our lungs, you’d cry and I’d call you a whore. Ironically, I‘d complain “it’s been months since you’ve sucked my dick!”You’d tell me I drink too much and I’d tell you your fat.The war would get exhausted and we’d stop finding things to hold onto.You’ll become bored of me, see my inner ugly, and one day, you’d realize I’m not worth fighting for, anymore.
You’ll only fuck me on holidays and shipping days, after a good drink of course, it will be so apparent its out of pity and obligation that I wont even be able to cum, it will be lonely, smelly and disgusting. Go ahead and call me a cynic, but i'm accustomed to eating to my own words and hell i've got a belly ache, what scares me really, is that i think i just might hate every thing,
But for now, as I try and sleep beside you, my thoughts are broken by the thunderclap of your grinding teeth, and I try not to thing about it, nuzzle my mug into your stomach, and fall asleep.
this is an example of how we all know what we are and how things are going to turn out...its so sad and ironic how real this prediction became
we're all terrorists
On October 6th, 2009 Homeland Security produced and released a DHS grant funded video to educate citizens about the responsibility of understanding and recognizing signs of terrorist activity in America. I embedded the actual video art the ending of this segment which is staring John Elway. Yeah that's right, John Elway. Makes you think, the government uses icons and celebrities to push radical ideas on us...hmmm...anyone thinking Obama, a patsy? Who really cares, we all keep our eyes closed anyway, and we're happy as long as we get to see him do a silly dance on the Ellen DeGeneres show.
Anyway to sum up the video. There are 8 significant signs of terrorism that we should look out for in America. If you see any of these signs, you must call 911. The eight signs are: Surveillance, elicitation, tests of security, funding, acquiring supplies, impersonations, rehearsal, deployment. They then go on to define specific visuals ques for these suspicious activities. .
Surveillance - If you see anyone with binoculars, digitals cameras or phones with cameras on them. CALL 9-11! They could be terrorists scoping out their next target! .
Elicitation - If you see people who are asking people questions, such as directions or information about places, CALL 9-11! .
Tests of Security - People using watches or checking the time often are very possibly timing security measures, so watch out for people with watches and if you see them, CALL 9-11! .
Funding - In order to have a terrorist attack, you need money. If you see people trying to sell or buy things, or people with lots of money, CALL 9-11!
Acquiring supplies - you need equipment to blow shit up. People who buy tools or unusual equipment are likely planning a terrorist attack. Especially people in uniform. Uniforms are often stolen to impersonate people. Remember, if you see people with tools, CALL 9-11!
Impersonation - Like i said above, people in uniform cant be trusted! CALL 9-11 if you see anyone wearing a uniform!
Rehearsal - Terrorists have to run through simulations of proposed attacks a couple of times before they cant make it go smooth. So watch out for people rehearsing stuff, stay away from the drama department at high schools and colleges. And be very weary of civil war reenactments. If you see people doing civil war reenactments, CALL 9-11!
Deployment - This one is easy, see a mo fo with a bomb, CALL 9-11!
Okay people, I hope I've been helpful in educating you on terrorists in America. My only concern, is cell phone bills. I mean, fuck man, I've been calling 9-11 all day and I'm almost out of minutes. I saw a kid earlier, in an EMT outfit, outside of the UCLA medical center, and he had a watch on and I even think he had an iphone!
Words worth hearing from a wise man - Timothy Leary
turn on, tune in, drop out
currently listening to: pedro the lion
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