i was watching No Reservations yesterday morning. i really like that show.
he was in LA, and one of the first things he talked about was that people in southern california spend a lot of their time in their car. your car becomes an extension of you. it takes on a personality. it becomes a friend.a companion.

my car is no longer working. ive had it since 2000. ten summers. it has 209,000 miles on it. at one time, each of those miles meant something. we went places. good places, bad places, necessary places, fun places, stupid places.

i miss its smell. its inconveniences. its familiarity. its safety. its danger. its unreliability.

its kind of a perfect metaphor for a relationship- for better or for worse. you accept and treasure someone, even if some of the things they do arent "perfect".

i miss my car.

"even if i did believe"

If I had undeniable proof of the existence of Yahweh, aka Jehovah, aka Adonai, aka El Shaddai, aka Yahweh Elohim, the father of Jesus and the ancient leader of the Semitic peoples, I still would not worship the bastard. If an angel appeared to me and removed my appendectomy scar so I could never deny the reality of divine power, I still would not be a Christian. My primary reason for not being a Christian has nothing to do with my lack of belief in their god. My primary reason is that the Bible is a disgusting book describing the behavior of a god without the morality of the average high school student.

That God does what he wants, when he wants, without even an attempt at self-justification, and all for what reason? According to Paul, all for his own greater glory. For his own glory he condemns billions to eternal torment, drowns millions of innocent beasts and thousands of children, orders the slaughter of entire cities down to the last man, woman, and child, creates a race that he knows is flawed and will hurt itself, refuses to deal with any other god on a friendly basis, rains doom on those who dare to try to be as knowledgable as he is, and so on.
~Tim Maroney

dead shell

the pain of life is great
and some will find it sweet
to the rot beneath the earth
while we rot
and live
and breathe
in this sick fucking world never did i forget
existence is fucking pain
and there is beauty in death

it was painfully obvious to everyone, except her, that he was a homosexual.
as she danced like a Peanuts character, swaying like a flower child... drawing closer to him, going in for a kiss- only to have him pull away or make a face like he was smelling brussell sprouts for the first time, i felt sad for her.
then, i got really annoyed because she wouldnt stop dancing.
he knew every word. made up dances to go with the songs.
he told her he wanted some water, and she nodded longingly. wishing he would drink her.
the night most assuredly ended in disappointment. for him, for her.

6. Tyrannical toward himself, he must be tyrannical toward others. All the gentle and enervating sentiments of kinship, love, friendship, gratitude, and even honor, must be suppressed in him and give place to the cold and single-minded passion for revolution. For him, there exists only one pleasure, on consolation, one reward, one satisfaction – the success of the revolution. Night and day he must have but one thought, one aim – merciless destruction. Striving cold-bloodedly and indefatigably toward this end, he must be prepared to destroy himself and to destroy with his own hands everything that stands in the path of the revolution.