Not Patriotic. I Joined to Kill

You have to be dull, lonely, or confused to do this. Put some weight on that chicken shit body, so can’t complain.

It’s December of 2016 and I’m seventeen. At seventeen that animal is starting to develop; I’m ready to fuck and let out my aggression. Fucking wasn’t happening, so my aggression became more acute. Most of my time spent as an up and coming Netflix subscriber and Credit Card owner, was used to get fucked up; like, Croesus picking a fight with big swinging dick, Cyrus, fucked up. I would drink until I blacked out. If I didn’t black out, it’s because I didn’t have enough alcohol. Hawkeye was my lover, but I was also a whore, and drank anything I could get my desperate hands on. It was my first time drinking Fireball, with some friends. I remember it crept on me. I started getting emotional about not getting any girls at the time. To cope, I left my group and ran a few blocks away to the corn silos on the outside of my town. The corn silos were in a row of four, with a cat walk going across the tops. In the middle was a lookout which stuck high up from the ground. (around 275 ft.) I remember climbing up there, but not down. One day, I even hung off the top with one hand. Those days were confusing and lonesome.

The novelty of drinking with the same group of friends got old, and I did nothing else. So, I decided to join the Army and go to war. It was the most romantic thing at the time; to be on the front lines with other disgruntled losers. I was sold, but my parents were not. See, at seventeen, parent permission is required, and I couldn’t wait another year. They didn’t want me to go infantry, so I joined as a mechanic. Little did they know, I would switch my MOS after tech school. Little did I know, my recruiter was an infidel, a whore, a snake. He made a promise, sucked my blood, and never thought of me again. My unit denied my release after tech school. I became lethargic and depressed for months after that. But then I got a job.

The job of course didn’t fulfill me. I was null again. Psychedelics would become my next lover once the drudgery got to me. Friends were no use at the time too. We never related, just got fucked up together. Seems as teenagers we don’t choose people; just get fucked up with some randoms for the first time, and end up sticking with them. My only real connections up until that point, were the ones I met through the Army. I still love some of those guys I went to BCT and AIT with. Part of me still wishes, I could be happily embracing some shit war in a foreign country. I’m thinking it could be serendipity though. Hope so.


Stores Ranked in Order of Decadence

Attempting to learn about Greek history and culture. Need some context for philosophy. I just want to read more philosophy now. This shit is not that exciting, like Aldi.

We all have to do the grocery ritual thing. I imagine some people even go to the store, not to buy their ramen and mac ‘n cheese, but to fill their big fat empty soul. (you know, the target chicks who drink their lattes and walk around the store to indulge in their fleeting sexuality) Most people at Walmart go only to fill their large mouths; not quite as sophisticated as the Target goers. My favorite store is Aldi. For some reason people seem a little more genuine there. Although, there is not always good looking women as compared to Target.

I stopped going to Walmart months ago. I’ll do my best to avoid self-mutilating myself, by never going back to that place. You walk in there, and you’re immediately in awe. The ugliness is everywhere. The place is so big that it feels like you’re surrounded by nothing. It’s the epitome of excess. People there, are embodiments of weakness, failure, poverty, ugliness, and stupidity. I wish the world wouldn’t produce people like these. I’m walking down the aisles, and I can feel their misery. In the dairy section, there’s a douche bag, dressed in the most conspicuous clothes, which he bought because, it lit up his dull monkey brain. Behind me is a fat waddling women. I try not to scream. I know it’s not superfluous, but Walmart never fails to paint me a picture of the ugliness that exists.

Target is pretty good. To see so many beautiful faces is a relief. Although sometimes I get horny, and then my desperation starts eating me. Best to drill your eyeballs out, so you’re never reminded of your weaknesses and sensitivities. Couples aren’t prevalent at that store; only beautiful single people. Why don’t they have boyfriends and girlfriends? Are they temporarily alone? No way they are alone like I am. At least Target has beautiful people.

Like a boring and reliable boyfriend, Aldi is always there for me. Aside from the time they were out of bananas. Nothing really to say about Aldi; I’ll only remember they exist when they don’t, just like the girl who felt for me, once I was gone.

And a side note: My dad’s girlfriend is screaming at her kid for coming home late, while I write this. It’s obvious what’s going on: the mother is inept, and can’t talk to her daughter. She reverts to angry mom, to excite that waning libido of hers, while protecting her ego from the utter disrespect her daughter has placed on her. That daughter will be drinking and sucking plenty of dicks in no time. I’ll never have kids, I would just yell at them, due to my ineptitude.

The Basement

A view of my car and some landscaping

Back living with my dad again. It’s been almost a year in this basement. The basement is not too big, but feels roomy due to it’s openness. It’s carpeted, has a fridge, and there’s a long window that is almost even with the ground. The basement is nice. Last year, I decided that paying for rent and utilities, would lead to, perpetually paying for rent and utilities. So, I moved out to save and invest. The plan is to do this for another year or two, until I have around 100k. When ready, I want to quit my job and live like a vagabond; NOT a tourist. Backpacking and living in another country for a bit, would be nice. I want to stay long enough in a new area to assimilate the culture. Haven’t decided on where yet, but I’ll figure it out.

My coworkers and parents think I’m immature for this, but in reality they believe I’ll eventually digress to infantile dependence on my holier than holy: JOB! Now, I understand the usefulness of a job, but I want to make it work for me, not vice versa. The conversation usually goes like this:

“I’m going to quit my job and be a vagabond.”

“Ha, okay”


“Once you get married, you’ll think different.”


These people say this shit earnestly, too. They see existence through the lens of work, marry, and retire. I wouldn’t be me anymore, if I did this. In the meantime, I look out my dads basement and see my economic friendly Toyota. I then give thanks to having a soul, and not looking out my apartment window to see an expensive Jeep Renegade.


I drink 12 dollar wine. I’m sophisticated.

Cuckhold  It’s 11:54 on a Sunday night, and I allowed something pathetic to happen: the world has submitted me to it’s domineering nature.  Every sexual urge inside me, has been sublimated to watch other people.  As these desires become more and more suppressed, the fear of experiencing intimacy grows greater.  The world has locked my dick in a box.  My fear of intimacy is greater than going to war; I would rather go to war.  I feel my mind slipping away from my control as this state continues.  The person I use to write this bullshit, is slowly degrading.  I’m almost broken. Although..

Aside from the lack of intimacy, this existence isn’t half bad: I’m not an indolent fat-pile, I’ve got places to travel, books to read. Hope is still alive, and I like being a part of the mystery. Anyway, welcome to my blog. I pray that I don’t die of helium asphyxiation or get a girlfriend. Both those routes, seem to make this blog and my soul void.