Here Comes A Regular; Good Times At The Bottom Of Your Glass

DISCLAIMER: I am actually heavily intoxicated while writing this. It's going to likely take a dozen proof reads or so, but I hope it's worth it.

(8:35 PM: Fuck.)

I'll have another--and don't forget my orange, bitch

Another Bottle Down

(10:07 PM:  Well that was abrupt)

"Another bottle down; you should really try it sometime cause' it feels so good."
-Asking Alexandria "Another Bottle Down"

Oh Alcohol you can be so classy, but at the same time you can be a savage caveman. You make us do silly things, regretful things ("Oh shit I slept with THAT!?"), violent things (getting straight gangster on unsuspecting people who looked at your girlfriend or boyfriend), and at times you can depress the shit out of us. Our bodies are destroyed on a daily basis by the warm fuzzy feeling we get as we drink you in excess, but we don't care we love you anyway. We're all masochists here and you are the life (or death) of the party! Prohibition in the United States (1919) was an attempt to stop the consumption and production of you and your brothers and sisters, but was of course turned over in 1933. Why did that even take place? Because you can be a deadly mother fucker that's why.

Short Story Bakery: The Exchange

Give me your tired, give me your sick

7:35PM on a warm partly cloudy Southern California Evening.

     The man pulled up to the curb of her house silently--headlights dimmed by dying sunlight, yet still blinding the rear of a red 2001 Chevrolet Silverado. Immediately after placing the car in park, and pulling the emergency brake he hesitantly picked up his iPhone and began to text. 

     "I'm here"  

     This text lit up her phone with an eerieness--her eyes gazing upon the blue screen with full knowledge of what would soon pass. 

     "k" 

     The only text response she could give, and the most indifferent one she could give. She wouldn't mislead, she would stand her ground as a statue carved upon a foundation of granite.

     He opened his car door, then took a box filled with precious memories in the form of belongings from the back seat. Some gifts from her that he couldn't bear to look at, everything else hers. As he approached the driveway towards the front door, a glass fell out of the box and shattered. The driveway now covered in broken glass, so unwelcoming, so fragile to the touch--much like this moment in time. He had replayed this moment in his head over and over again, but he never imagined it would be quite like this. Stressed, he tried gathering the pieces of glass into the box as fast as possible. Part of him was happy that this happened, a subconscious rage of breaking something in front of this person who had done so much damage already. However, the box of precious memories became tainted by the hidden assortment of sharp glass shards provided by the panicked urgency of the man. Irony. 

Methamphetamine; Take Me For A Ride

This Love is a Drug

(Doctor, I might need another prescription)

When the unattainable becomes available for only a moment, and the sighs, screams, and whispers become ever prevalent would you know what to do? When to stop? Where to hide? Like a meth addiction, you cannot always support the habit, but when it comes to fruition it is pure ecstasy. Bliss. What happens when the person you're giddy about cannot even look at you the same way anymore? The dealer is out of product, you won't get it again for a while--when or if it ever returns how will you buy it? With caution? Or lay all your chips on the table like a gambler without a care in the world?

In the Immortal Words of the Virgin Mary: Come Again?

(I'm on top of this mountain, and you are waaaaay down there, see? Oh wait, no I can't see you I'm too busy devaluing who you are)

What are you even talking about Brian? It's simple my friends, that arduous period of time where you cannot let go of your feelings for another person. You need your fix, you have that itch, you've had a taste and want more. How can you get it again? If they are set in their decision to let you go--a diatribe against this person does not help,  nuclear missles won't help, shaking salt over your shoulder and carving pentagrams into your earlobes in the name of satan won't help either. This is a withdrawal, and just like a withdrawal it's a helpless situation that only time may remedy. Time is an asshole.

Separation Through Devouring Each Other; I Love Home-Cooked Meals

The Mantis and You

(If you know what this comes from, kudos)

Sexual Cannibalism. This phenomena is a common occurance during the period of reproduction for the Mantis. Females will begin eating the heads off their male partners after the mating ritual is complete. Their hunger doesn't stop at reproduction, but the literal consumption of the Mantis who fulfilled their need--a process that we seem to practice a lot these days.

"They just had sex and she...ate him?"

So what I mean by "we seem to practice this," doesn't mean I'm saying we all turn Hannibal Lecter after we sleep with someone--no. This is a look into the failures of relationships because of the unsatiable appetites we seem to have. We want our partner to change minor irrelevant behavior, we want them to be able to afford a house made of marble, we want them to become a different person, we want to snort coke off hookers, and to quote The Doors: "We want the world and we want it NOW."

Romance and Love, Bow-Chicka-Bow-Wow

Roses are red, Roses are flowers

Oh NO! The dreaded "L word." Lesbian? No my friends, LOVE. Why would someone like me write about love? Some gay shit like this? (gay as in happy to all those would-be pointers of fingers.) Well it's a human issue, and as all human issues go I feel the need to find clarity with it through a reasonable interpretation. So I'm going to talk about this "Love."

"Yeah dude, love. I said it and I'm here to represent it."

(The heart sings about a magic man)

So you met some girl, got a bit too excited because you felt it was "love," and you know what's funny? You didn't fall in love. No. Something that beautiful must come later. You fell into something called "Romance." This period of time is very much like the beginnings of 9 circles of hell, but getting through them all won't necessarily transport you to the higher existence you desire as Dante implied in "The Divine Comedy." Sound morbid or demented? Don't like the analogy? Well you might just see how much they actually relate. Still offended? Well I'm writing this anyway because fuck you (Just keedinggg).

You're a Jerk, Yet I Strangely Want to be Like You? (WARNING: Mature Audiences Only)

"Hey Mark! How's it going bro? How is everything?"

"Good man! It's all good! Me and Jess just had our 4 year anniversary last week." 

"That's insane! You might as well marry her already. Little baby Marjess."

"Well we'll talk about that later. Where's the keg at?"

"It should be....over there?...the fuck? Did HE show up???"

"No way...have you seen Jess? It's been a few hours already..."

And just like that you see an old grey Chevy Silverado speeding off with the keg in the bed and Jess all over the guy in the front seat. Oh no that's not even the best part about it. This fucking guy is laughing and smiling the entire time while making fellatio gestures at Mark. He's a nihilistic machine: the inebriated, fighting, fucking, shit-talking sailor that everyone hates. But god damn would you love to be him.

Livin' the Life

So what does it take to be one of these creatures? It's simple: don't care about ANYTHING. Unleash every primal instinct, take zero accountability for any of your actions, and NEVER let another motherfucker tell you what to do. 

("Motherfucker" is shorthand for "person")

Basically unlearn everything you have ever been taught. Urinate in the toilet? Fuck that here's someones' coveted garden gnome. Oh is fire bad? Let's see what these gas tanks and spray paint cans have to say about that! But let's be honest here, this is probably the most extreme version of this type of person. These people may or may not be all that bad, but they will certainly exhibit at least one of these extreme behaviors.

So There's This Thing Called Perception

     All of the shit is hitting all of the fan--it's just not your week, month, year or day. Whatever it is, the present moment isn't a good one so what do you do?

Cry? Feel sorry for yourself? Blame it on past mistakes? Abandon all issues by seclusion?

No.

Develop an Iron Will that marries Feelings and Logic in holy fucking matromony

Logic? Feelings? Oh how these two words contradict each other all the time. The irony is that we fail at most endeavers when we use either one in excess. 

Keyword: Juxtapose

That's right these little assholes that do damage to our well being if we use either one too much must work in Juxtaposition. Sound easy? Sure. But if you fall into the category of a sole thinker or a feeler it has the potential to be be a mind boggling and arduous process. Be ready to take a look at all the things you hate about yourself--this probably won't be pretty.