Showing posts sorted by relevance for query howling. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query howling. Sort by date Show all posts
Friday, September 08, 2006
A Bad Moon
" But you, Zarathustra, you still love and seek out those dark places, like the roots of the pine"
Nietzsche.
Soundtrack;
Whitehouse; "Great White Death"
Why must I actively seek out confrontation?
Is it some kind of parasitic spiritual voodoo that I attempt? Perhaps I aspire to perform some kind of psychic vampirism in which by subjugating other men I can somehow steal their energy-but all that bleeds from them is their pain, rage and hatred, blending with my own into abominably toxic and explosive compounds.
I wake as usual afer less than five hours (after doing a sedation job on myself that would have hospitalised Keith Moon,) horribly alert and lucid yet still drunk and with a head full of pictures of frightened male faces.
No hangover, as usual..No physical damage to my own person (only financial HAHAHA! I care alot....)or any others.
Thankyou, Odin, for protecting myself and others, again (and again).
How? Am I so terrible that I cant even get into a fight? I doubt it..(I am not large in the physical sense, but quite tall and very slim, not unlike a Buchenwald case at times)
The stabbing hand, poised again.
Horrible..
As in HORROR.
And so fucking INFANTILE. Where is cunts sense of decorum?
Some people,( usually male -thankyou for your wasted efforts, Martin..) can see the bloody murder in my eyes and attempt counsel, but a thorn caught in my mind seeks only to terrorise.
I am a terrorist. In the worst sense...
People let me down so I must then seek to let myself and others down even further.
The takedown....
A memory surfaces of the Bishop and myself four floors up on the roof of the studio...Saturated in alcohol as I was, this f-er (one of my oldest and most trusted assosciatess who KNOWS WHICH BUTTONS TO PUSH) points heavenwards to a chimney on the roof edge and suggests that "there is your seat"...I rise to the bait and there I am, crouching, perching like a gargoyle, four floors up, bathed in moons milk.
The moons cycloptic eye looked down- and I realise it was the eye of Odin looking down and laughing as I twist and shout in howling alcoholic lycanthropic deraingement.
Later a taxi driver has the temerity to enquire as to whether I have the money for my ride(??I am wearing an H Boss suit??) as I get into his vehicle and after a breif interaction his glasses are removed and destroyed.
The memory disagrees with me like an undigested meal but I feel no remorse.
Not for him or any of the other cattle that got hit(not physically) with my electric stick last night.(except perhaps Camille (sorry, sweetheart..People like me go with the territory of tending bar), although as a rule when I run on Ethyl autopilot women are generally spared the worst of it, they just get to watch a man raised by women behaving like a beast (in a vain attempt to escape the pain of being a man)).
Seems so apt that I get up and drink bitter lemon from the fridge.No milk for strong sweet coffee here..
Quinine is said to sooth Malaria...Mal Aria...Bad Air.
The beautifil and mistreated Hotsygirl phones and offers to take me out for coffee.
Her words are cool hands on my feverish brow...
I weep at her kindness.
After describing the degree of distress I am in she says she is coming over..She lives just round the corner....
I wait..Hurting..Needing coffee, food...
FIVE hours later (I exaggerate not) she finally graces me with her presence, arriving smiling, at my door..
When I mention that I was intending, upon posting this, to go out alone having waited half the day she takes a call from her girlfreind outside then disappears.
When I wtf call her she says "you pissed me off"...
I am now seeing a side to her that EVERY person I have EVER met who knows her (obviously many in the Biblical sense)and has warned me of, that she is the most terrifyingly self centered individual ever to convince herself that she has a fraction of compassion for others.
Who or what exactly does she think she is? (See prev. post for more thoughts on women.)
Libertine? Free spirit?...Monstrous is the word that springs to my mind.
I go out and buy vodka..
I am an alcoholic..And as such I have NO freinds, only contacts..
Otter
Nietzsche.
Soundtrack;
Whitehouse; "Great White Death"
Why must I actively seek out confrontation?
Is it some kind of parasitic spiritual voodoo that I attempt? Perhaps I aspire to perform some kind of psychic vampirism in which by subjugating other men I can somehow steal their energy-but all that bleeds from them is their pain, rage and hatred, blending with my own into abominably toxic and explosive compounds.
I wake as usual afer less than five hours (after doing a sedation job on myself that would have hospitalised Keith Moon,) horribly alert and lucid yet still drunk and with a head full of pictures of frightened male faces.
No hangover, as usual..No physical damage to my own person (only financial HAHAHA! I care alot....)or any others.
Thankyou, Odin, for protecting myself and others, again (and again).
How? Am I so terrible that I cant even get into a fight? I doubt it..(I am not large in the physical sense, but quite tall and very slim, not unlike a Buchenwald case at times)
The stabbing hand, poised again.
Horrible..
As in HORROR.
And so fucking INFANTILE. Where is cunts sense of decorum?
Some people,( usually male -thankyou for your wasted efforts, Martin..) can see the bloody murder in my eyes and attempt counsel, but a thorn caught in my mind seeks only to terrorise.
I am a terrorist. In the worst sense...
People let me down so I must then seek to let myself and others down even further.
The takedown....
A memory surfaces of the Bishop and myself four floors up on the roof of the studio...Saturated in alcohol as I was, this f-er (one of my oldest and most trusted assosciatess who KNOWS WHICH BUTTONS TO PUSH) points heavenwards to a chimney on the roof edge and suggests that "there is your seat"...I rise to the bait and there I am, crouching, perching like a gargoyle, four floors up, bathed in moons milk.
The moons cycloptic eye looked down- and I realise it was the eye of Odin looking down and laughing as I twist and shout in howling alcoholic lycanthropic deraingement.
Later a taxi driver has the temerity to enquire as to whether I have the money for my ride(??I am wearing an H Boss suit??) as I get into his vehicle and after a breif interaction his glasses are removed and destroyed.
The memory disagrees with me like an undigested meal but I feel no remorse.
Not for him or any of the other cattle that got hit(not physically) with my electric stick last night.(except perhaps Camille (sorry, sweetheart..People like me go with the territory of tending bar), although as a rule when I run on Ethyl autopilot women are generally spared the worst of it, they just get to watch a man raised by women behaving like a beast (in a vain attempt to escape the pain of being a man)).
Seems so apt that I get up and drink bitter lemon from the fridge.No milk for strong sweet coffee here..
Quinine is said to sooth Malaria...Mal Aria...Bad Air.
The beautifil and mistreated Hotsygirl phones and offers to take me out for coffee.
Her words are cool hands on my feverish brow...
I weep at her kindness.
After describing the degree of distress I am in she says she is coming over..She lives just round the corner....
I wait..Hurting..Needing coffee, food...
FIVE hours later (I exaggerate not) she finally graces me with her presence, arriving smiling, at my door..
When I mention that I was intending, upon posting this, to go out alone having waited half the day she takes a call from her girlfreind outside then disappears.
When I wtf call her she says "you pissed me off"...
I am now seeing a side to her that EVERY person I have EVER met who knows her (obviously many in the Biblical sense)and has warned me of, that she is the most terrifyingly self centered individual ever to convince herself that she has a fraction of compassion for others.
Who or what exactly does she think she is? (See prev. post for more thoughts on women.)
Libertine? Free spirit?...Monstrous is the word that springs to my mind.
I go out and buy vodka..
I am an alcoholic..And as such I have NO freinds, only contacts..
Otter
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