I'm really damn sure anyone can equally easily fuck me over...


anti-antisocial

I can disintegrate into the thin if you'd like
(... but it will destroy me....)

But why the hell should YOU care?

Is it true?

After i tear my soul open
After I rip my heart to pieces
Only trying to explain the circumstances
Just trying to show people who i am
My heart burns
Like i never wanted
And I wish I was somebody
I wish anybody cared
But the days go on
And I'm ultimately alone
People I know
I see them live on
But I walk alone
in the dark and shadows
In the unnoticed manner
No one knows me
No one cares
No one
I'm an irrelevant spirit
If i was gone forever no one would notice
If i vanished
Nothing would change
I want to belive that I am not forgotten
I can't even grasp it....



----------------------

What the fuck?
What am I doing
Does it matter the least bit
Does anything I do ever count?
Is there no hope?
Am I insane?
Or am I full of shit?
Is everything i think wrong?
I can't tell the difference between reality and my thoughts
I only know what I see and feel
And for the most part it's bad

Is there anybody out there?
IS THERE ANYBODY OUT THERE?
IS THERE ANYBODY OUT THERE?

If there is,
Please tell me...
Please let me know...

I'm drinkin' coca cola (....with other things)


Tiny Cities Made Of Ashes- by: Modest Mouse

Wer'e goin down the road towards tiny cities made of ashes
Gonna hit you on your face gonna punch you in you glasses. Oh no
I just got a message that said "Yeah hell is freezin over"
I got a phone call form the Lord sayin "Hey boy git a sweater. Right now"
So we're drinkin drinkin drinkin coca-coca-cola
I can feel it rollin right on down
Oh right on down my throat
And as were headed down the road towards tiny cities made of ashes
I'm gonna get dressed up in plastic gonaa shake hands with the masses. Oh no!
Does anybody know a way that a body could get away
Does anybody know a way
Were goin down the road towards tiny cities mad of ashes
Im gonna hit you on the face I'm gonna punch you in your glasses. Oh no.
I'm wearing myself a t-shirt that says "The world is my ashtray"
Our hearts pump dust and our hairs all grey
And i just got a message sayin that hell has frozen over
Got a phone call from the Lord sayin "Hey boy git a sweater. Right now!"
Does anybody know a way that a body could get away
Does anybody know a way
Were drinkin drinkin coca-coca-cola
I can feel it rollin right on down oh right on down my thraot
And as we're headed down the road towards tiny cityu made of ashes
I'm gonna lay down in the spa where they coat you with molasses
Oh no
Does anybody know a way that a body could get away
Does anybody know a way

(Don't) Run Like Hell- by: the damned

They chased him through the country side
They chased him from his home
They followed him across the states
The chased him around the world

When they captured him
They chased inside his mind
They hunted his thoughts
To see if he was sane

They herded him in chains
They forced him to live in a cage
They broke his spirits
They let him rot alone

They chased him until he was old and gray
They watched him until he noticed them no more
They pardoned him on his death bed
They freed him when he was dead

I attended The Prom, Dear Darling, and Damien Jurado concert tonight (only because I ws on the guest list, fucking $12 otherwise.) And I became extremely claustrophobic. It was a packed house and in the midst of all the people I almost lost it. I had to stand outside for awhile just to regain my bearing. It's the first time I've ever felt like that. Kind of scared me. my chest tightened up, and my head spun. Sometimes I feel the most alone in a crowded room.

Tonight I am dying in a crowded room....

How Awful Have I Become-

I talked to someone I haven't for a long time
It was a shock
Someone I used to miss every day

I had tried to forget
I had tried to just give it up
I'm not so much the type of guy
Who keeps in touch
(...even with reality)

I'm the sort of guy
Who thinks I've been forgotten
That it's useless to try after awhile

And I don't know what to think
It forced me to realize that I miss her
To realize that I miss some of my past
This past I purged from my concious mind

But I don't know if it's superficial
It's been so long since I truly thought about it
And I feel bad because of that

How awful have I become
That I can just make myself pretend
That nothing ever happened

And sometimes others never have a clue
Of why I do what I do
And either do I
It makes me question myself for a second time

I've lost contact
Is it worth it to reestablish the connection
With everyone I've ever left behind
Do they even care?

It's hard to understand
Because I may have forgotten them
But how can I know they haven't forgotten me

How awful am I?

Also, for you all the people who continuosly don't care, go here:

http://www.mopedarmy.com/members/view/mosquito/brendan/

There, one can see my mohawk from about two months ago. Now it stands 3.5 inches tall, in sort of an 80's afrohawk ordeal. It's badass. But it is not, I repeat, NOT PUNK ROCK! Bastard people can't tell the difference between a simple haircut, and shitty ass music.
And mopeds, tons and tons of mopeds.

Go here:
The Moped Army

It's so god damn late, and I'm so tired I'm becoming delusional. I got 4 hours of sleep last night, and it appears that I'm only going to get 3 tonight(this morning) unitl I have to rise before the sun and head off to school. The main problem is I can't seem to make myself go to sleep. I sometimes wish I could never sleep again. Or was it sleep forever? It's been a long time since I could sleep regulalry, now it's tossing and turning, or simply the lack of sleep altogether. It's causing some problems. During the day I find myself lost in day dreams for long periods of time. And the time I do get sleeping is short and abrubtly spoiled by an alarm clock that i set not but 2 or 3 hours before. So damn early....

Cassette Tape- by: the damned

I threw a metal cassette into the player
It was total maximization of sound
The dolby power blasted out the speakers
It took me back in time

I was back in the nineteen eighties
Listening to a tape cassette in a yellow van
I believe it was Slayer
And I believe it was an Ford Econoline

I peered out the rear bubble window
To see where I was
I was in the nineteen eighties
A much better time

I was wearing a neon green Gotcha shirt
And bright blue shorts
I had long socks on
And a pair of old school Vans

I hopped out the rear door
Onto a skateboard twice as wide as they are now
We rolled along the streets
Passing the ugly boxy cars

There were brothers pumping boom boxes
Public Enemy loud as hell
And teenagers cracked out on coke
Everything was swell

The time I was there was radical
Most excellent in every way
The babes were bodacious
I never wanted it to end

After we got back in the van
I layed upon it's carpeted floor
The tape was over and switched sides
And I traveled through time once more

I was back in my room and all was the same
The tape I was playing continued on
It could have just been a dream,
But I was still wearing the old school Vans

I am progressing (?). I got a video internship on one of the prof's businesses. This is a step to what? I get to play with really expensive cameras.

Right now there's too much music playing at once to tell the difference between them. Echo and the Bunnymen is on my stereo, The Prom is practicing in my basement next to me, and I'm thinking of turning on some more for absolutely no reason. And It's raining outside, yesterday it was sunny. And it's cold. Bloody cold. I'm sitting here, with nothing to do. I don't know if there is something I should be doing, but if there is, I don't really want to do it. There's a brick wall in front of me.

I'm also wondering what this should be. It's mostly just shit, from my point of view. Pointless garbage.

Mental Dive To Omaha- by: the damned

There is a man named James
And his mind is so deranged
He used to have concious collective thought
Now he mutters, makes no sense and fades off
He shouts in self pity and anger
Every day he gets stranger
He tries to show people he's tired of living
But he will not talk about anything
I do the best I can to be his friend
I just hope he gets better in the end

Does anything ever change?

Tonight I am damned to my soul
Tonight I am dying in a crowded room

I think I'm going to throw up
And purge the sickness from inside me
An involuntary spazm of the stomach and intestinal muscles
Which force any substance that has been ingested
Upwards out of the stomach through the esophagus and out the mouth

I'm either going to pass out very soon,
Or i'm going to throw up....

Ink Blood Writer- by; the damned

His hand lay on the table
Next to it was the knife
Blood dripped off to the floor

He lay on the floor
Cradling his arm
Now 6 inches shorter than before

The ink well was red
The pen and nib were on the page
Tools used for his journal
Composed of liquid life

The words read easily
The ideas were clear
Each page resembled the next
Except this one was written in blood

His right hand held his left wrist
He cried on the floor
On the table his left hand remained
Useless now, never to be returned

Accepting Actuality- by: the damned

The vision equaled the distance across the room in my mind portrayed
The lights were too dark and destroyed the message
Lifeless bodies cluttered up the floor
Dwindling the chances
But the music pounded and fueled the fire

But the distance was actually greated than the vision
And it was just light enough to transmit the message
Vivid people were all about and scared me
There was no chance
And the music serenaded and fueled the fire

The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had...