Hm.

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.

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 :]

Do you ever?

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


just to know what it feels like?




i do.

:)

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


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.


:D

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.
:]

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.

Clarifications.

This blog is not a representation of me as a whole.
This blog is merely a filter for my hatred and angry musings.

I spew pure violence, hatred, and animosity into this.


My intention isn't to cause the whole universe to view me as a "sad and angry person" nor to leave them wondering how I "ever got to be this way". It's to protect the world from my rage, because honestly I'm aware that most of it is unjustified.


And don't take all of my writings at face value.
HEY MOM, that piece[birthday] was more about me than you.
and seriously while were talking, you know I'm a hateful teenage girl who expresses herself through photos and words so why would you seek out my violent spewings?



Cathartic as they are, these posts are not an accurate representation of who I am.
If you really want to know who I am or who I've become.

Try talking to me in real life.
I'll break it down for you.
These walls really are mighty collapsible.
Don't be afraid most of this violence and hatred is directed inward, you're really not in much danger of getting hit by it.

maybe one day i'll slip

maybe one day i'll take the final tumble and surrender myself to gravity.



or maybe that day gravity won't be working quite right.


nothing ever works anymore, the guy who built it did a half-assed rush job.


The day gravity isn't on?
That will be the most perfect day, we will succeed where Icarus failed.
We will soar to the sky and back, never once allowing the rules of physics apply.

Someday I'll slip and nothing could be more perfect.

Birthday.

"Be nice to her because of who you are, not who she is"


"But, I am who she is"



The mere sight of you fills my veins with battery acid.

Your every utterance fills my head with volcanic hate.


I only want for you to leave.


I don't love you.
I don't even like you.



you've made it apparent you loathe the day I was brought into creation.
but to be honest, the blame lies in your hands.


You're spiteful, jealous, anxious, depressed, self-loathing, irresponsible, irrational, and just generally awful.
The house is full of tension.
Car rides makes me want to vomit.




Happy Birthday Mother.
I can't say it out loud.
But if it helps, I've never hated anyone more completely in my entire life.




this isn't a phase, and it won't leave.

You've damaged me beyond what I thought words had the power to do.

I've become you, and we'll all be surprised if I don't throw myself into traffic to rid the world and genetic cesspool of you.



You and I are the same person except for one massively important detail.

I realize it.

inside.

flatten my hair.
flatten my speech.
flatten my appearance.
take that out.
take that off.
why is that even there?
don't you know they don't want you?
they only want you if the past four years of molding stuck.

but nothing stuck you say!
don't make me laugh.

they're inside you now.

look at you, you're using punctuation!
though you narrowly escaped those dangerous capitals.


Creativity? Have you learned nothing? you poor fool, blind and hopeful.


Don't worry, We're watching out for you. Just go back to bed, close your eyes and fall asleep.
We've got everything under control again.

Things I Never Tell People

Christmas lights were forcing their way through the fog
Begging to be loved, admired, or just seen.
I just drove past, further into the suburban labyrinth
Windows down. Heater on. Sun roof open.
the rain drops crashed down
Heater off.
Kid A drowned out the purring of the engine, the splashing of the tires through puddles.
My heart raced
the rain slammed into the car, my face, the road
the maze opened into the field that was still untouched
Untamed grass covered the roots of the grove
Car stopped. Lights off. Music on.
Without warning I began to sob
not out of sadness, no.

and the rain drops
fell around my feet

Standing in the shadows
the world is beautiful

Things I Never Tell People

You asked me in your slurring drunken voice why I don't sleep.
I didn't have the courage to tell you the truth so I smothered your voice with a drunken kiss.
You told me sleep was to be the savior of the world and all its inhabitants.

I muttered my cynical "Lucky them" into your shoulder. You chuckled and kissed my forehead whispering " I wish you could sleep, its the most beautiful thing in the world." I took the bottle away and put out my cigarette in a puddle, dragging you inside.

As you passed out next to me I began to think and spiral away from reality.

Slowing my breathing. Counting my heartbeats.
I slowly drifted to sleep.





and you don't even remember it.

How far I have fallen

I'm a liar.
I'm a whore.
I'm an asshole.
I'm a terrible excuse for a human being.
My id is in control more than I realized
and now that I've caught on i'm hoping to change.

but i don't know if i can.
no one has faith.

Ian told me he didn't think I'd ever change.
and that I was bound to keep hurting people.


which i guess is true.


I just wish I...actually cared?
its not that I don't care.
its just... I still don't see anything wrong with being self serving.

which is the problem i'm sure.

i know what i want. i get what i want
and i ignore what i need
and i don't care.

but on the other hand
i care so much my soul weeps.
i don't know if i have a soul.

i doubt it.
i'm just a fleshy bag of existence with a pathetic mind that is clearly failing

i have no fucking clue where my super ego is.
but it should show up.
so i can care.






i feel as if the devil and god are both sitting by idly while I rip myself to shreds and destroy anyone who gets close enough to be hit.

i think i need sleep.
i think i need love :/


i don't know how to love.



























my life as i know it has no meaning.





I need to change.

Dear Sleep,

Dear Sleep,
Why must you evade me so? I've done nothing to you. All I really need is a few hours to get me by. Why must you refuse me this simple pleasure?
Your presence is the only thing that settles my mind, why have you forsaken me? The drugs don't help, its only chaining you to me, its never restful. My eyes burn and itch as if sandpaper and acid are being rubbed into them at all hours. Bags form under my eyes, so massive and dark that meth addicts whisper their worries. My body aches from the complete lack of rest, my joints click and pop while my spine aches and my neck begs to stop holding up my head.
I growl and snarl at the people around me, like some enraged animal. I can not seem to find a single reason to get dressed or attempt to make myself presentable. Those haunting dark circles under my eyes always stay.
As if being too exhausted to function but doing it anyhow wasn't torture enough, you've convinced my immune system that if I'm too lazy to function why should it? How I loathe you, you fickle bastard. Why do you grant sleep to the wicked and the horrid, but not me? What have I done? Is the damage reversible?
Oh Sleep, dear friend-no, lover- please grant me just one night with you. Those hours would be so precious. I can not force you to stay for more than you wish, you never do.

Please grant me this wish, before I physically destroy myself.


Adoringly,
Jessica

man,

i have a headache again.
my back hurts and i want to read


i haven't done my homework
and there are way too many people alive and breeding.



but its okay.
because i saw a rainbow today
and it made me smile, just for a little bit.

ahah.

please, someone, find this as funny as i do...


i'm so dumb sometimes :D

obscenity

Who are you to decide what is obscene?

who decided your moral standards are that of every person?


What if i really honestly do find artistic merit in playboy? I mean you have to be talented to airbrush & accent the correct places to make them attractive right?


obscenity is amazing.


stop cockblocking my artistic views with your damn morals.


i'm not asking you to like it.
i'm asking you not to kill it.

siren

i'm a siren.


and not in the "BARELY LEGAL SIREN SUCKS COCK" kinda way.

in the i put on a super cool mask that makes everythink listening to me and following me and trying to love me is a good idea.


then they hit the rocks in their ships of life.
and blow up

and for some reason keep coming back
even after i've smashed their ships to pieces due to my inability to do anything properly.




i don't want to be a siren.
i shouldn't be a siren.

i just want to be loved.
and be able to accept that.


but once again, instability forces me to be alone.
because i push it all away.





i think i'll go vomit and sleep alone.

samskeyti

is the most beautiful thing ever.



ever.




coates made me cry out of frustration.
he kept asking me why i didn't want to enter any of the things i'm really proud of

and i couldn't explain it to him.

some shit just isn't meant to be entered in contests.
its my soul.


but i can't just explain that to him.
because i'm inept.
and he's an asshole.


and i'm not complacent.

What THE fuck.

i think i've never hated anything more than money.
ever.


all it does is motivate people to deceive each other.
or to beat each other out.


the medical research companies will spend excessive amounts of their money to make sure all the trials of their drugs don't make the drug look bad.

they'll market drugs to people who don't need them.
they'll give the same drug to seven different kinds of disorders when it really only alleviates some of the symptoms of one of them.


i don't understand.
you're the MEDICINE industry.
you're supposed to HELP people
not lie to them so they take your stupid drug.


:/

how is money worth that much?

i beg of you.
prove to me that capitalism isn't the end of good?

i can't do this anymore.

/misanthropic.

awareness

Our awareness is all that is alive and maybe sacred in any of us. Everything else about us is dead machinery.
-vonnegut



sometimes i think i spend too much time thinking about who and what i am.
or why i'm here. etc.



i don't think anything really matters

and that's a nice feeling.





i'm not really sure about anything anymore and i like that feeling too.


also, i'm far too obsessed with vonnegut for my own good.


And So On.

hm.

i have a strange obsession with myself.

weird.

seriously?

i've never understood people cheating on each other.
breaking up[while totally awful at that moment] not that fucking hard to do.

stop cheating on her.

and with.....that .


jesus christ.


and now, basically the whole school knows.
because obnoxious people listen in.


anyway.

she's going to find out from the whole school.
and thats horrible.


whats worse?
i'm afraid she'll attempt to "prove her worth" by fucking him.

and really, if he wins in this at all i'll kill myself.


theres no fucking way the world is okay if that happens.





fuck you.
you're a pig.
break up with her
and let that fucking beast of a human blow you to your hearts content.
but don't hurt that poor innocent girl who for some demented reason thinks you're a good person .



dick.
move.

i post too many of these.

i guess the name is more fitting now.
manic ramblings
that's all i do.


and i am the girl who tried.

whether anyone gets my references or not doesn't really matter to me.




Somebody

[sometime to sometime]

He Tried



i base too much of my life off of things other people have said or done.

i just want to be a good person.


its so fucking hard sometimes.



the news makes me cry.


how doesn't it make everyone?


i can't deal with this shit.


i'm an emotional wreck.

and all i do is pretend i don't have emotions to everyone.

i fuck up relationship after relationship because i don't want to hurt them

i break up with people to avoid hurting them.
what kind of retarded logic is that?
then i justify it to myself "oh it would've ended badly"


and then i get lonely.
and i do it again.
i date someone for like a month to two months
then vomit my insanity on them in one sitting.

then they're like "well work it out"
and i'm like "no"

and its bad.

i'm 18. i shouldn't have this many issues already.


i think i'm bipolar.
but i get physically ill if i think too long about it.

the longer you think the less you know what to do.

no one knows these things.
well i'm sure they've all assumed i'm not an emotionless robot.
thyey're not all stupid.



its pathetic the way i block it out until i meltdown.
which really its about every 4-5 weeks.

i get mad at love stories for being so irrational.
i get mad at women for being so open with their emotions.
i get mad.


i hate the world and everyone in it.

but thats totally a lie.


and totally makes that sound stupid.

everything i say sounds stupid.





i wouldn't advise getting too close.
i only bite because i'm scared.
i only bite because i don't want to hear it.
i can't accept your love.
i can't accept your worry.
i can't accept your good nature.

i want to.
oh sweet god in heaven i want to.
i want nothing more than to fall asleep in someones arms and have it not make me want to vomit the battery acid i'm sure flows through my veins.




i'm insane.
i'm sorry.

how did i become so misogynistic

i mean, i'm a woman.
i have rights and shit.
idon't really want to be shoved back into the kitchen and such.

however, i really wouldn't mind if pretty much every other woman was.

naturally there are exceptions
but really...


jane austen is making me realize more an more how much i hate women.


she wrote this stupid book
she wrote a satire. go her.
she wrote a book full of people she clearly loathes.
merely to make herself look better.?


and now mr. darcy who just treats everyone like shit is really super duper in love with elizabeth?


why the fuck would that happen?

it wouldn't.

i hate this stupid fantasy world these women build

oh he's being a dick because he's afraidddddd.


no he's being a dick because you're annoying and empty headed.



fuck fuck fuck.

why am i always so fucking angry?

its never too late to lose your pants

mannnn..


i like being twitchy.


i had to change the name of my blog

my mother nearly shit a brick.

fucking bitch stalks me on the internet.



goo away mother.
i hate you.
let me blog in peace.
let me take pictures the way i want.

i hate you stiffling my artistic creativity/


i hate you actually.




super.



now that thats out of the way/.


hi 2009

i'm going to write 08 on my papers til at least mid june.

that's how cool i am.


i like typing..


its never eloquent.
which is kind of lame

i wish it flowed out of me in poetic verses.



i wish i wish i wish.

i'm too idealistic.


ahahahhahahahahaha.



manic. depression.