Saturday, February 13, 2010

I want nothing more

I want nothing more than to like humans as a whole.

Every day I wish that somehow that day will be different.
That people will have evolved mentally overnight.

I wish they didn't steal.
I wish they didn't rape.
I wish they didn't justify their heinous actions through their gods.
I wish they didn't kidnap.
I wish they didn't murder.
I wish they didn't decide that certain races are unfit to exist.
I wish they didn't push their agendas on everyone.
I wish they didn't lie.
I wish they didn't drive intoxicated.
I wish they didn't just let things happen.
I wish they didn't pretend they care.
I wish they didn't breed irresponsibly.
I wish they didn't watch Jersey Shore.
I wish they didn't let marketing work.
I wish they didn't blame drugs for assholes.
I wish they didn't use sex as a weapon.
I wish they didn't let Sarah Palin or Glenn Beck talk.
I wish they stood their ground.
I wish they thought for themselves.
I wish they questioned anything.
I wish they care about education.
I wish they didn't love war.

I could go on for quite some time listing all the things I wish they weren't or didn't do, but I don't want to kill myself just yet.

I just don't want to be cynical or pissed off anymore, but every time I try to appreciate humanity, someone punches their wife or stabs a prostitute.

All I want is to make a difference in someone's life, I want to save someone from this shitty feeling I've developed.

I want to work at a non profit organization for the rest of my life.
I want to dedicate myself and my life to stopping violence and heartbreak.

Right now, I just want to end human trafficking, but who knows? There are a billion and twelve problems in the world, I'll find my calling.

I need to help, or I'm going to lose my shit.

Monday, January 25, 2010


At night, I think about the person I could have been had I made different choices.
I'm not really talking dramatically. I just feel like every small choice eventually plays its way into my life and the way it is now.
The first drag off that Marlboro Red 100, that first timid sip of Captain Morgan, or that first hit off Zeus.
I wish I hadn't, most days.

I always wonder how different I would process things had I never even tasted them.

I wonder if I would still believe in God.
I wonder if I would have been in all AP classes.
I wonder if I'd be at an amazing school right now.
I wonder if I'd want to have children someday.

However, I've realized that I like the person I've become

for the most part, anyway.

I'm a snarky, cynical asshole.
but I have good friends and I'm a total badass.
I love the people i hang out with and the place I live

I just wonder what I'd be like if i'd never tried them.

Sunday, October 11, 2009


I saw a dead seal on the beach today.

I wanted to give it back to the ocean,
but I knew the beast wouldn't keep it.
It would just thrash the frame against the rocks
until it grew tired of playing
and spit it back at our feet.

The Ocean is a cruel and honest Beast,
Never turn your back upon the waves.

The Beast might fancy you it's next plaything.

Thursday, June 18, 2009

New Thoughts On Passion

I'm Jessica.
I want to share a drink with Bukowski
I want to smoke with Thompson
I want to think with Vonnegut
I want to watch the stars with Webley
I want to get mad as hell with Miller and Orwell
I want to see the world like Palahniuk
I want to change people like Milk
I want to sail the seas with Kipling
I want to wander the streets with Yorke and Reznor
But most importantly, I want to live with so much passion that it just comes hurtling out of my soul though any outlet it finds.
passion is the reason for my being.

That's what's so special about all of them.
They care so much about their passion that they're willing to thrust every ounce of them into it.

And that's how it should be.
to paraphrase bukowski, if it doesn't flow out of you like magic don't do it.

I think apathy in general is distasteful.
being "mad as hell" is the best possible medicine for all the shit

Let's go paint the walls of every building and change the world for the better :]

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Do you ever?

want to run into traffic and just let it slam into you?

just to know what it feels like?

i do.

Friday, June 5, 2009


i'm so done with high school.
like literally.

plus i got a 40d for graduation
and this laptop i'm typing on.

which is realllyyy nice

i'm outside in a park right now
its really nice today

minus the screaming children who sound like they're dying

i like outside.
but i like shiny computers

i want my lens to come in so i can use my new camera
which is like sex.
like solid sex.


i'm so happy

i'm so glad actually
as the song has said a billion times now.

jared and matty are playing with a frizbee
its cute.

Friday, May 22, 2009

Modern Day Misanthrope

I do not wish for this paper to end up another teenage angst filled rant against my fellow man. I do not wish to whine and complain about them as they whine and complain about the trivialities of their banal existences. I never make any attempts to pretend I'm not one of them and my efforts to become anything but human have become increasingly frustrating. The burning desire to somehow rid Earth of these "walking viruses with shoes" has stirred many a great man past frustration and into philosophical revelation. The twisted, tortured mind of the misanthrope wishes not to directly end the human race, but to simply avoid them until the end of time.

I've developed into quite the self-loathing misanthrope. I still feel human, far too human to be healthy. I do not wish to be associated with this species; a species that rapes, murders, molests, bombs, slaughters and burns every fleeting glimmer of hope and goodness in this world. The only people I ever seem interested in being around are fellow misanthropes, and they are not be confused with psychopaths. I don't think anyone understands the ability to hate the human race as a whole while still having friends and lovers aplenty more than Charles Bukowski. In a discussion on society and humans he stated, "I'm not interested in solving the ills of society. I don't want to save the world, I don't even want to save me," so plainly he could have been reading the weather forecast. I guess I'll never truly fit the definition of the misanthrope because of my friendships, relationships, or even acquaintances. I don't hate the select few humans I've chosen to live within my circle; in fact I love most of them.

The vile hatred for my fellow man wasn't acquired overnight; it took nearly two decades of constant bombardment of idiocy, bigotry, violence, and willful ignorance to get me to this level of disgust. I've spent my whole life surrounded by people who serve no actual purpose; they just breed and forget their duty to common courtesy. "Hell is other people" as Sartre once put it. Nothing is more awful than having to spend hours upon hours with people who are so ignorant of their own disgusting acts. I've become bitter and jaded far beyond my years, I never meant for it to happen I tried to ignore the gut feeling that these people were dreadful and horrid, but you can only ignore something like that for so long.

Schopenhauer suggests aesthetic enjoyment as the only escape from the suffering of the world, turning to art is the only way to deal with the horrendous existence we're all a part of. Schopenhauer describes my own personal struggle to cope with the world around me. I shoot self portraits more often than anything else. These pieces serve two purposes: to express who I am in that moment or to express how completely frustrated I feel. In "Do You Believe in Anything?" I lay curled into the fetal position, face down, naked save for a sheet draped around my lower half, on a bare mattress while the world comes crashing down around me. Living in a place filled with a constant reminder of what you loathe can be suffocating; art is the only real release. The photos are the only way I can ever handle any situation or person thrown into my life. The cathartic release music offers also falls under Schopenhauer's advice. The violent breakdown in the end of "The Great Destroyer" embodies the frantic rage that rises inside of me when I read another news story about a man throwing his child out of a moving car, a mother drowning her children in the bathtub, a family of four shot and killed over the drug debts of the father, or how the great nation and beacon of light has been lying about its policies on torture. The drums beating to some unknown rhythm while the synthesizers squeal out some terrifying noise. The entire breakdown fades away into a hearbeat-esque throbbing sound that slows and dies away. Being human is horrible and inevitable; we might as well make art out of it. The world is full of such horrible things that only way to not be a misanthrope is to be a blind optimist.

I suppose most of my distaste for humans stems from their inability to overpower their savage urges in order to function with intellect and reason. Joe R. Lansdale illustrates this incapacity, " The primitive brain is still primitive, and it compels, pulses to the same dark beat that made our less civilized ancestors and the primordial ooze before them throb to simple savage rhythms of sex, death and destruction." I am horrified by the level of devolution that plagues our society today, as if not raping children is the most difficult thing we could ask of another human. People should be tolerant, respectful, peaceful, understanding, passionate, caring and just good. However, their ids seem to build this impenetrable wall of sex, violence, power and hatred. These savage behaviors should be exterminated along with their proliferators.

I don't want to save the human race, I want watch their extinction. I'm not suggesting that I want to be the one to finish what Hitler started. I don't want to be the one to end the human race; I don't want to touch them. I don't want to sink to their level. I don't want anything to do with anyone. I can't be the one in change of extinction. I think we should all just come to an agreement to stop breeding. There isn't anything violent about not forcing eight pounds of squishy, bone and flesh out of a tiny hole, I'm more like any of you than I ever wished to be, and that disgusts me more than I have time to articulate to you. I'm a horrible person, but so are all of you. I am the passive aggressive, teen angst filled, walking contradiction of a modern day misanthrope and I thrive in my disgust, distaste and hatred.