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OH WOE IS ME
DECEMBER 2004

Wednesday, December 29, 2004

You know, all I wanted for Christmas was one phone call.
One specific phone call.
Of course, it never came.
But then again, I knew it wouldn't.

Anyway, what the Hell just happened?
This "Christmas Tsunami" is easily the scariest thing I've ever seen or maybe even heard of. They're saying something along the lines of 120,000 dead? How is this even possible?
I mean, this has to either be proof that there is no God...or proof that there is, and He (she, it, whatever) is a very angry, and I would say unjust, God.
Frightening.

Friday, December 24, 2004

So I've been listening to a LOT of Pantera and DamagePlan lately. I actually had a couple of Pantera CDs, but never used to listen to them because when I first heard them I wasn't used to that overly aggressive, in your face music, and those harsh, screaming vocals. But since then I've come to embrace that kind of music anyway, and now I realize that Dimebag Darrell Abbott was truly a great guitarist and his senseless murder is a terrible tragedy that NEVER should have happened anyway. The murderer was not a well man, and he should not have been allowed to own a gun to begin with! People fucking suck.

Well, it's 2:02 AM, so I guess it's Chritmas Eve.
Just don't care at all...

Thursday, December 9, 2004

I can't believe some madman rushed the stage of a rock show in Ohio and shot and killed guitarist "Dimebag" Darrell of DamagePlan, and then killed three or for others, before being killed by a police officer. What the fuck is this world coming too? Yeah, DamagePlan is hard hitting music. It's not happy; Neither was the music in Darrell's previous band, the notorious Pantera. But it was music. It's a form of expression. The "violence" in the music does not in any way validate or justify some crazy fuck's actions last night. I don't know much about Darrell. His music was pretty cool, and he was probably idolized by many for his signature guitar riffs. This is a great tragedy, not just for the music world, but for everyone. A rock show is supposed to be a temporary escape from the real world. Not a place to look over your shoulder and hope nothing bad happens. This really sucks.

Tuesday, December 7, 2004

It’s been a pretty God awful few weeks…oh, let’s call it a month. Maybe more.
I’ve had my Dad in the hospital twice…shortness of breath…ever weakening heart. It was only a few days each time, but isn’t that enough? Worse yet, both times have only been the quick fix. No real “good” was done. It’s fucking unending.

And it all makes me think…I maybe not much of a son (maybe, I dunno) but I do at least try to help, begrudgingly as it may seem at times. And when shit like this happens, I’m not happy about it, but I’m there. But what’s gonna happen when I’m his age? The worse part about being alone now is knowing that I’ll be alone then. Not that I wanna burden anybody else, but the idea of facing old age and sorry, “ineptitude” alone, is terrifying.

And speaking of being alone…my eternal curse, (or as it says in one popular movie, "my Gift, my Curse")as it were…this broken heart shit is fucking frustrating. I mean, I’m happy to be the “hopeless romantic”, but fucking A, when things suck, they fucking suck. This empty, painful burn…it gets to be overwhelming to somebody like me. Yesterday’s fortune cookie said it pretty well:
“Your emotional nature is strong and sensitive”
Aye, there’s the rub…you see, I’m not strong. I’m weak. Very weak…too weak to not let the “emotional nature” completely take over and render me almost completely debilitated.
At this point really, the most powerful emotion surging through me at any given time of course, is self-loathing. EXTREME self-loathing, at that...
I’m a fucking mess.

Not completely unrelated (but let’s face it, my “love life” rules my existence…all the other negative shit is just par for the course) tomorrow (8th) is the one year anniversary of my poor dog ICON’s death.
At this point, I kind of want another one, but it doesn’t seem to be in the cards right now. Poor dog. I may be “over it”, but I will always feel guilty about it.

About everthing.

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