shit-faced

i was telling a friend of mine about the theory behind the urge to drink moderately heavilly in times of personal crisis. he's a recovering alcoholic, four years sober. we came to the conclusion after a long discussion--that the sweetness of the bourbon and the chill of the ice, does nothing to mask the sounds of the tourists, the faces of the homeless, and the feeling of helplessness. it doesn't inspire great feelings of generosity and mass-compassion, it only fuels the right hand to drop the glass off the balcony and into the crowd.

being shit-faced never made the emptyness go away, it enhanced it the way it burned the stomach.
we know better.
so why do we miss the bottle tonight?

are we human?

you know what i could go for?

a mountain of cocaine and a gallon of Vodka.

strange, since I hate Vodka.

seriously, i'm clean.

had a dream a friend and i stayed up all night [even though it was daytime, and we were other people] drinking vodka and doing cocaine in my father's car that we stole from him. [even though he was another person.] then we spent the night in lock-up being witnessed to by representatives of Alcoholics Anonymous.

*I DON'T DRINK
*I DON'T DO COCAINE
*I DON'T EVEN DRIVE
*but i was still myself enough to be rude and off-putting to the evangelicals in the holding cell in my dream.

these hard times, i tell ya. now i'm an alcoholic in my dreams.

scratch that off the list

I'm a horror junkie. I've been absolutely obsessed by the macabre since i was about four, maybe five. my parents showed my Michael Jackson's THRILLER and i went ballistic.








i used to have nightmares that bordered on sexual fantasies about zombies coming out from under my bed and taking me away.



when i was eight, my father showed me "the RETURN of the LIVING DEAD" on Sci-Fi. it was around Easter and my I was in the kitchen with my mother making peanut-butter eggs, and i remember him calling me into the living room to "check this out"--

seeing half of a person rotted like green leather strapped to a metal table screaming for brains, and the mere utterance of

"it makes the pain...go away. I can feel myself ROT." it stuck around my psyche.

now every easter we watch that movie, and other zombie movies--but since i have it on DVD now, we sort of just watch that one. thanks, Dad.

douche. honestly i stayed up for two hour in my bed that night going over the plotline to the Lion King over and over again trying to distract myself from the living dead woman missing her lower half strapped to an embalming table.

it didn't help that for fourteen years i've lived four blocks from a large cemetary at the edge of the borough. i've had countless nightmares about the dead crawling out of their graves and making it to my house. last fall i bought myself a copy of THRILLER on DVD, after my kid sister and i got up the courage to watch all 14 minutes of it on YOUTUBE. I felt it was time to own a piece of my own paranoia. on halloween we stayed up to dvr all five hours of bravo's 100 SCARRIEST MOVIE MOMENTS commercial free. [it comes down to about three hours and fourty-six minutes solid, give or take]

last night i bought SLEEPAWAY CAMP on dvd, watched it with my sister. for the first hour or so its really bad. cheap acting, fifteen long minutes on average between each kill. it just sucks. i thought it'd be good for a laugh. i'm not really into slasher flicks, and that's what i thought it would be. the ending is so scary, disturbing, shocking, and revolting that we threw it out. i screamed "oh my God" at the top of my lungs for two minutes straight and switched over the tv to south park and just put my head between my knees and--we actually had to rewind it back and re-watch the ending to let it sink in. BEST FUCKING ENDING OF ANY MOVIE I'VE EVER SEEN. still wouldn't watch it again. we took the garbage out this morning. it was a bootleg anyway. ha. I'm afraid to walk around the house alone now.

while hyperlinking the thriller video, i found this. how come no one told me about the philippino prison dance troupe before? the video of their THRILLER rehearsal is so fucking cool! and i had to watch them perform RADIO GAGA and GLORIA. Yeah, i'm a dork. but the sentiment behind their program is genuinely inspiring.

also seeing 1,500 people dance like zombies all at once is enough to make one masturbate out of fear.

...............maybe i should see a therapist.

are we human, or are we dancer?

my life is ruled by two major forces of influence; the homestead and the home. i know that sounds funny, but they really are two different things. I live with my parents at the homestead. i take care of my younger sister. I work a small retail job as a cashier to provide an outlet for my masochistic side. i like a little abuse; the angry customer, the rejected credit-card, the schedulled lunch.

the state of living is excruciatingly lonely. i sabotage most of my friendships and relationships out of paranoia, possessiveness, and fear of abandonment. [the old "reject them, before they reject you."] I still obsess over the image of the scraggly long-haired prince charming in shimmering armor and day-old pants banging down my front door to take me away from the homestead and back to the home.

I guess I fancy myself the perfect housewife; i bake, i cook, i clean. I will not wear pants unless its for a job and i absolutely have to. I live in dresses and i keep a striking appearance by updating my hairstyle and haircolor as frequently as possible. I have an original 1972 betty crocker cookbook, and i read martha stewart living.

I want a thousand kids--okay, maybe twelve. eight or ten of my own. I want a big farmhouse in plantation country, Louisiana. I want to move my parents to the Adirondacks, and i want to build a thousand homes for the people of New Orleans. I honestly think about adopting a disenfranchised child every day.

i used to be afraid to leave the house. It took me a while to get used to riding in a car again after i didn't leave the house for nearly three months back in early 2007. I would be afraid that I would run into people who had wronged me everywhere I went, and lived with massive guilt and reoccuring nightmares of terrible tragedies and mistakes with every moment of my life.

I eventually became so run-down that I developed a fertility disorder, insulin-resistance, anemia and i even had a mild heart attack last May. I became literally obsessed with nutrition and traditional fitness, taking up belldance and scheming to install a pole in my bedroom so i could stripper-cise.

so nad takes her top off--her head, not her blouse.

the actual title of the blog is a reference to the late night cartoon Metalocalypse [season 2 on DVD today!] Skwisgarr (sweedish) is skeptical of Murderface's obsession with finding religion after a near-death experience.

SKWISGARR:"this is dildos! doesn't he knows that there's no such things as religions."
PICKLES:"there is such a thing as religion. Just because you don't belive in a God, doesn't mean there's no such thing as religion."
SKIWSGARR:"Maybe, I...reevaluates my lifes, then."