I'm the Anti-Hallowe'en

What another bullshit, crock of crap holiday.

Let's go commercialism, forward march!

Everyone who think's he or she's subversive and cool, and isn't, well, Hallowe'en has your nuts in tha freezer because "..there's colours on the street / red, white and blue / people shuffling their feet / people sleeping in their shoes / there's a warning sign on the road ahead / there's a lot of people saying we'd be better off dead / don't feel like satan but i am to them / so i try to forget it any way i can / keep on rocking in the free world / keep on rocking in the free world / keep on rocking in the free world / keep on rocking in the free world / keep on rocking in the free world..." honestly hallowe'en is supposed to be all dark and grim and not mainstream because we get to scare and be scared well it's all a crock of crap. it's just corporations puppeting the other side of things like they do with britney and avril : they sell to those who buy the bubblegum and to those who don't.

it makes a cynic out of you.

I feel like i'm living in a dystopia sometimes, so I think that's where I'm going to get my novel inspiration from, I'm looking at doing a sort of... alex caught in a futuristic 1984 type society. could be fun. self-discovery with bombs hitting the pavement all around you! scifi vs. coming of age!

actually, it sounds decent. now i need to put it onto paper.

that'll be the hard part.

anyway.

songs of the moment:

eminem - just lose it
public enemy & moby - make love fuck war
snoop dogg feat. pharrell williams - drop it like it's hot
creedence clearwater revival - fortunate son
neil young - keep on rocking in the free world
black flag - fix me
rammstein - amerika
the ramones - blitzkreig bop

that's all.

I went to school yesterday...

And the Che Guevara / A Rebel to Tame / Calm Like a Bomb shirt was a major hit.

Major.

Like, people were commenting on it in droves. I got asked to turn around so people could admire the front and back three (3) times.

It was the talk of my social circle. Jackie blogged about it, Ali & me talked about it, D. practically tried to own it, and Them was typical Them.

So, yeah, other than that, not too much happened, excepting Shuang declaring herself my scifair partner.

Suffice to say, it's a hell of a lot better than Alex all alone against the music [or the science teachers, as the case may be] and thusly something something humbera hum.

Check out the bin Laden tape news, dude says some pretty interesting things. Now I empathize with him much moreso than before. Too bad he's a mass murderer and a terrorist, huh?

Anyway, following the great anti-American spirit of the blog post, and in celebration of me not having posted anything since the 27th (it being the 30th) I will regale you with some awesome lyrics.

Rammstein - Amerika

"...we're all living in amerika / amerika ist wunderbar / we're all living in amerika / amerika, amerika / we're all living in amerika / amerika ist wunderbar / we're all living in amerika / amerika, amerika / wenn getanzt wird, will ich fuhren / auch wenn ihr euch alleine dreht / lasst euch ein wenig kontrollieren / ich zeige euch wie's richtig geht / wir bilden einen lieben reigen / die freiheit spielt auf allen geigen / musik kommt aus dem weiBen haus / und vor paris steht mickey maus / we're all living in amerika / we're all living in amerika / amerika ist wunderbar / we're all living in amerika / amerika, amerika / ich kenne schritte, die sehr nutzen / und werde euch vor fehltritt schutzen / und wer nich tanzen will am schluss / weiB noch nicht das er tanzen muss! / wir bilden einen lieben reigen / ich werde euch die richtung zeigen / nach afrika kommt santa claus / und vor paris steht mickey maus / we're all living in amerika / amerika ist wunderbar / we're all living in amerika / amerika, amerika / we're all living in amerika / coca-cola, wonderbra / we're all living in amerika / amerika, amerika / this is not a love song / this is not a love song / i don't sing my mother's tongue / no, this is not a love song / we're all living in amerika / amerika ist wunderbar / we're all living in amerika / amerika, amerika / we're all living in amerika / coca-cola, sometimes war / we're all living in amerika / amerika, amerika / we're all living in amerika / amerika ist wunderbar / we're all living in amerika / amerika, amerika..."

"Hey Houston, we got a problem here..."

x

*please note some german characters have been replaced by ones that blogger actually recognizes, and if this causes any indignation, outrage, or confusion to anyone, german-speaking or otherwise, reading my blog, you can shove it you know where. peace.

Augh...

Why won't November come already? The first week of November alone brings:

November 1: NaNoWriMo starts.
November 2: First report card. Possibly suicide.
November 3: More novel-writing, or maybe mourning or not for my death.
November 4: Green Day concert, or funeral preparations & epitath.
November 5: Aural hangover from concert, using my Friday night to continue writing, instead of staying up late for no reason. Also, I go to bed early.
November 6: I get up early, buy the AZGIIs, drool [druul] over them for a few hours, continue writing.
November 7: Writing writing writing.

You can see why I'm so excited.

This will be, like, the single biggest week I have EVER had, excepting maybe Senior Camp '03.

That big.

I know, it'll be crazy. I'll need to order pizza at least once, and listen to lots of awesome music, and buy lots of other junk food to boot. No if only I had an income for which I didn't have to work && a place of my own && no school... I could get that much more done. I could maybe do a "24-hours-of-music" on Friday to supplement some awesomeness into my week.

But even so there's only so much awesome one can take.

In other news, nothing much has happened this weekend.

Like, nothing at all, except my night sucking big time last night for reasons undisclosed.

Suffice to say, it sucked.

At least I have my homework done and my Propagandhi to comfort me.

Keep on rocking in the free world, whether or not you're allergic to cats, I say.

x

Hadda be playing on the jukebox...

It had to be flashin' like the daily double
It had to be playin' on TV
It had to be loud mouthed on the comedy hour
It had to be announced over loud speakers

The CIA and Mafia are in cahoots

It had to be said in old ladies' language
It had to be said in American headlines

Kennedy stretched and smiled and got double crossed by lowlife goons and agents

Rich bankers with criminal connections

Dope pushers in CIA working with dope pushers from Cuba working with a big time
syndicate from Tampa, Florida

And it had to be said with a big mouth

It had to be moaned over factory foghorns
It had to be chattered on car radio news broadcasts
It had to be screamed in the kitchen
It had to be yelled in the basement where uncles were fighting

It had to be howled on the streets by newsboys to bus conductors
It had to be foghorned into New York harbor
It had to echo onto hard hats
It had to turn up the volume in university ballrooms

It had to be written in library books, footnoted
It had to be in the headlines of the Times and the mind
It had to be barked on TV
It had to be heard in alleys through ballroom doors

It had to be played on wire services
It had to be bells ringing
Comedians stopped dead in the middle of a joke in Las Vegas

It had to be FBI chief J. Edgar Hoover and Frank Costello syndicate
mouthpiece meeting in Central Park, New York weekends,
reported Time magazine

It had to be the Mafia and the CIA together starting war on Cuba,
Bay of Pigs and poison assassination headlines

It had to be dope cops in the Mafia
Who sold all their heroin in America

It had to be the FBI and organized crime working together
in cahoots against the commies

It had to be ringing on multinational cash registers
World-wide laundry for organized criminal money

It had to be the CIA and the Mafia and the FBI together
They were bigger than Nixon
And they were bigger that war

It had to be a large room full of murder
It had to be a mounted ass- a solid mass of rage
A red hot pen
A scream in the back of the throat

It had to be a kid that can breathe
It had to be in Rockefellers' mouth
It had to be central intelligence, the family, allofthis, the agency Mafia
It had to be organized crime

One big set of gangs working together in cahoots

Hitmen
Murderers everywhere

The secret
The drunk
The brutal
The dirty rich

On top of a slag heap of prisons
Industrial cancer
Plutonium smog
Garbage cities

Grandmas' bed soft from fathers' resentment

It had to be the rulers
They wanted law and order
And they got rich on wanting protection for the status quo

They wanted junkies
They wanted Attica
They wanted Kent State
They wanted war in Indochina

It had to be the CIA and the Mafia and the FBI

Multinational capitalists
Strong armed squads
Private detective agencies for the rich
And their armies and navies and their air force bombing planes

It had to be capitalism
The vortex of this rage
This competition
Man to man

The horses head in a capitalists' bed
The Cuban turf
It rumbles in hitmen
And gang wars across oceans

Bombing Cambodia settled the score when Soviet pilots
manned Egyptian fighter planes

Chiles' red democracy
Bumped off with White House pots and pans

A warning to Mediterranean governments

The secret police have been embraced for decades

The NKPD and CIA keep each other's secrets
The OGBU and DIA never hit their own
The KGB and the FBI are one mind

Brute force and full of money
Brute force, world-wide, and full of money
Brute force, world-wide, and full of money
Brute force, world-wide, and full of money
Brute force, world-wide, and full of money

It had to be rich and it had to be powerful
They had to murder in Indonesia 500000
They had to murder in Indochina 2000000
They had to murder in Czechoslovakia
They had to murder in Chile
They had to murder in Russia

And they had to murder in America

Ah, gotta love Rage for pickin' em.

anyway, i have nothing to say, except that two bullets instead of one is a safer bet is hahahaha funny not.

also, man, my sleep is out of whack.

and i have homework to do ;_;

lots of homework...

feeling so weak...

ugh

x

So Jems gave me this inkling of an idea...

It's national novel writing month in November.

Or so I'm told.

The challenge: 50,000 words in 30 days.

1667 words a day, and 1657 on the last day.

How impossible-seeming.

How tantalizing.

My normal rate is only 300 words a day. Maybe a little less.

I would have to step up both my words-per-day and skill-per-words game.

And I'd have to finish, and be one of the winnars.

NaNoWriMo, here I come.

All of you will be naysayers.

We'll see how this thing goes.

We'll see indeed. After so much poetry and lyrics, prose needs a chance in my life. It'll be the Catcher in the Rye of the 21st Century.

How tantalizing x 2.

Maybe the Hamlet of the Third Millenium AD?

I dunno.

The point is, I'll be spewing and spewing and spewing and still having time for other stuff somehow.

Weekends will now have a purpose.

Staying up late will now have a reason.

I will now be able to brag.

It'll be so fucking w00t I can only hope I can follow through.

omgah please I need to pull this off.

It would be such a milestone achievement.

With that in mind, today was blah. I failed the Chemistry test. I raped the Physics test. And the French verb test.

Sandy updated her GJ format but still no BC pic from Melshuang.

><

Kinda boring day, I dunno.

x

EDIT: Song of the Moment: The Sex Pistols - EMI

This blog is thick and / easy to get lost in / 'cause you're a dumbass / belligerent fucker

With apologies to Tool & Maynard James Keenan.

And John Maynard Keynes, just the the pleasures of Economics.

This post goes out to The Sex Pistols and the punk spirit that Giovanni so easily dismisses.

Damn the man!

God save the Queen though.

Lately, a lot of nothing has happened.

Bleh.

I guess that explains the lack of comments, maybe, partially, that and everyone's busy out of their asses.

I got my second email out to Henry.

I failed [71%] my Physics test and FAILED [50%] my Chemistry test.

And I failed [70%] my French grammar test.

Bleh.

I guess I'm feeling too complacent to seriously be a punk right now.

With that in mind, I guess I'll publish this tripe and wait another day or two and then a year or two and then I'll die of some debilitating disease like bullets to the face.

what an emo end

x

Man, I'm so fucking tired...

I can't wait until Christmas exams.

Well, after the exams part.

Y'know, free time, winter, celebration of Jesus' birth, carols, parties, hot apple cider, the whole deal, but mainly because I'll be sleeping in like a motherfucker.

w00t.

And I have to come up, on my own, [hem hem] with a science fair idea that's both good and not too hard and different but not too easy.

And I have to pick a CEGEP and a program and stick with it through thick and thin and I have to get good marks and play decent on my team, show up to church at least once and maybe flirt with some chicks and be an idiot and do arts & lit and write poetry or lyrics both french and english and most importantly get good marks O_O

Gah.

OMGAH if you will.

And I blog, daily, maybe not, but it's for you guys as much as it is for me, well not really but if nobody read my blog what would be the point?

i need those digits, or that email address...

but i'm self centred again, so bad, i can't imagine, and i try to joke about it but i'm always part of the joke myself, practically as bad as i joke myself to be it's so ugly like garbage in a pond or like a bunch of stupid people getting drunk and sitting around being fuckheads late at night and being dicks to passersby just for the fun of it lets start some shit hey you kid where the fuck you think you're going?

fucking cunt.

and i'm stressing bigtime about math, it's my monkey on my back, it's a bitch and it's a ball and chain and i have to carry it and the only way i can survive it is by forgetting it's there, ignoring it, but i gotta be reminded time and time again alex you're in 536 we're in precal kids in grade 10 are doing the same shit as you and getting better marks you dumbass why oh why fuck you mister fucking zion why oh why oh why fuck you alex manley, alexander fucking h manley you let me down, you fucked me over, now i have to deal with your mistakes, take the blame for everything you did and i hate you i hate you i hate it all my past self for letting me down and my future self for hating my present self for letting him down and it's just one big three piece ball of hatred.

so i wrote about it.

* fifty-three *

Forty - seven winks short of the impossible and i'm
losing sleep i'm losing ground but something tells me i've walked this
road before; that i've been here already

and now i'm looking to the heavens as i approach the
third doorway for the second time around the air is thicker
here and my load, once light, is now heavy

the problems blur in my mind as the pressure mounts, can i
take this amount of stress so early in this relationship?
only time and an enigma will tell.

zzz

and as if school wasn't bad enough, and my ability to cope wasn't shitty enough, and i was getting more than six hours of sleep a night and doing my homework on time and performing to expectations or maybe even above them there's the whole social aspect and the need for that info comes up again, there's the schism i'm trying to sew shut, there are the candies in the jar that i can't open and there's the ugly product that's not divisible by me of two beautiful factors that are and that's not mathematically possible but somehow it's killing me.

i'll email you tomorrow henry, sorry for the delay,

x

It really makes me wonder...

Actually, lots of things make me wonder.

But mostly I just sulk.

How the hell could one little six-foot-tall asshole be so self-centred? How much self-obsession can you fit into my 147-pound frame?

I mean, really, fuck me.

Ugh.

I hate this shit.

It's such an immense, complex operation devoted to driving me insane, I swear.

Not that that's much work to do.

My world is coming apart at the seams right now.

Why can't I be easy-going?

Not that I like that. As a matter of fact, I absolutely hate it but it seems to be easier to deal with. I'm wrong a lot though so you never know. But I seem to constantly live in the difficult, and relish it, and complain about it, and relish complaining about it, and it's all so fucking difficult is this really my fault?

I hope not.

x

A New Kind of Nihilism...

For me it's more like... nothing means anything. I often, and currently as of right now, get the feeling that my life is entirely meaningless. It's just a series of events strung together which no one will remember, which won't impact anyone, and which don't give me enough to keep me coming back. Like Hamlet once said, one of the three things that keeps me from committing suicide is that I consider it a sin; and I don't have the time to spend eternity in hell.

Secondly, it would probably hurt some of you. I don't want to be mean and heartless and selfish.

Thirdly, I'm too pussified, and I don't want to screw up and live the rest of my life fucked up somehow.

That having been said, life is tiring. It just wears me down, and I often wonder what the point is. Just keep on getting up every morning [or afternoon, as the case may be] to get battered around throughout the day, cling onto my wakingness as I try to get some meaning out of things while talking to people on MSN/message boards until early in the morning and then falling back asleep again.

Eurgh.

What I want, what I really want, is to be someone history remembers for having done something incredible, something that stays in the history textbooks, some kind of jarring photograph that gets burned into the minds of millions of people the day afterward in the news and in the papers, on the internet, I don't know, but I want to be a revolutionary or something. Be on the cover of Time magazine. I don't want to fade into obscurity like everyone else but how do you go about applying for the position of collective-world-paradigm-shifter extraordinaire? You don't. It happens because you're in the right place at the right time, and you do the right thing... and who knows how that would come about. History chooses you, you don't get to apply, and so my life constructs shallow purposes for myself as I while away the time until I'm too old to be an activist and not look like a joke.

Fuck things.

I guess the premium time for shit to happen would be 2018. Fifty years since 1968, which most people agree was the fucking craziest, most rebellious, revolutionary, activist year in centuries. I'd be 29 going on 30, probably holding some shitty job in the city, done university in a degree that won't get me any kind of profession, maybe a G8 summit comes to town or something, I dunno. I'd even like to be hated by most of the world. Viewed as a bad person, most evil, most likely to change the world for the worse, but if I knew I was right in my heart & in my head, and if a few people, here and there, maybe even after I'm dead and gone, look back, read up on me, go, "Damn, he was a genius, a great person, what an inspiration..." it'd be worth it, just for the few that saw the truth, having millions hate me. And I don't mean like Neo-Nazis like Hitler, I mean like the media portrayed me as a monster because I was attacking Corporate America, but in truth I was striking a blow for humanity. So I'd like to have a small "cult" following, if you will, because the best kind of people are the ones who think differently than the majority. So to be truly understood by those who matter most, posthumously or otherwise, would be awesome.

This is the kinda blog post that, I feel, really makes me weird, because how many people would feel like this? How many would say it? Most people want to grow up, get married, a nice job, a house, kids, lead a fulfilling, peaceful life but for me, with my inner attention whore, I want to be world-famous for being different, for being a bad motherfucker with a plan and a Molotov Cocktail, I dunno. Maybe I listen to too much RATM.

EDIT:

I decided, a little late, but to blog for rizzle, so anyway.

Today was weird.

Woke up late, as to be expected, aucune surprise.

Did nothing.

Missed out on an opportunity to go see a movie with Dan.

I had a prophetic dream.

So fucking weird... I don't remember a whole lot, but it was weird, but Tadzeo was in it. For those of you who don't know, Tadzeo was my best or second-best friend for most of my childhood. We were both socially awkward so we were rejected by about everyone but each other. We were real close buds, we spent a lot of time together, sleep overs, watching television, playing Civilization II and just hanging out. He had been going to FACE since Grade 3 but we managed to still be friends. Around high school, however, he started to get popular, got sucked in by the cool kids at FACE, now he had lots of friends, didn't hang around with me as much, we still got together every once in a while but they were rarer. We didn't see eye to eye as often, he got frustrated by me because I was such a goody two-shoes. He started going through girls real fast, two or three girlfriends in a month, I still had none, he lost his virginity last year. Last time I was over at his house was November '03 for his 15th birthday party, I think. I really regret us falling apart but things happen. It really irks me, if you will. Fucking depressing, because he's an awesome guy, really funny, cool to hang out with but he's into the whole party/alcohol/casual sex scene which I despise. Anyway, last night I had a dream, and in it I was fighting a whole lot of people with a hockey stick in an alleyway, and then the fighting paused and he showed up and we hugged, and I was all hyped to see him. Later on in the dream it turned out he was a girl. Not sure how that works. Anyway, I was walking up the street to get milk and I ran into him and his friend, Alex [aka Big Jesus]... It was really depressing because we just talked about meaningless bullshit for a minute or two and then parted ways.

Nothing like reminding me of all the things that could've been. He was wearing the fucking awesomest outfit... I have never seen a guy look so cool. Heh. So that made me really depressed.

Then, nothing happened at all, really. I just kinda did nothing. I d/led a bunch of music though. I'm up to 1.7 GBs in two months. Pretty smooth.

My two songs of the moment: Coheed & Cambria - A Favor House Atlantic and Minor Threat - I Don't Want to Hear It

"...shut your fucking mouth / i don't care what you say / you keep talking / talking everyday / first you're telling stories / then you're telling lies / when the fuck / are you gonna realize / that i don't want to hear it? / know that you're full of shit / i don't want to hear it / know that you're full of shit / i don't want to hear it / know that you're full of shit / oh, shut up..."

and

"...good eye, sniper / here I'll shoot, you run / the words you scribbled on the walls / with the loss of friends you didn't have / i'll call you when the time is right / are you in or are you out? / for them all to know the end of us all / run quick, they're behind us / didn't think we'd ever make it / this close to safety in one piece / now you wanna kill me in the act of what could maybe / save us from sleep and what we are..."


x

Now for that long, extended-type blog post I was talking about...

You know, regular-style.

More than 200 words, if you will.

Si tu voudrais.

My French always feels incorrect, even when it isn't, I don't know. C'est un peu penible.

Anyway, today was more or less eventless.

Caught the early bus, which was cool.

Didn't take any tests, had three consecutive remplaçantes for the last three periods, didn't make out with anyone, etc.

Got back my Econ and Hist marks, 93 and 84 respectively.

I need to step my History test game up.

Rise to meet the challenge, or something.

Get better than 84, for certain.

Anyway, I have a hockey game in about 50 minutes, I need to leave in about 15, should be exhausting, hopefully less so than last time.

Should take up enough time for alla yous to get online and be on msn/reply to me/blog/etc.

Go nuts, I say, but not quite Bill O'Reilly style.

Certainly don't start talkign about vibrators 24/7

Bwahaha. Check the Smoking Gun site.

Peace izzout of stock.

I mean, peace out, sorry.

x

Just for the novelty of it all...

I thought I'd blog from school.

This will be short, but I'll blog when i get home, no worries.

Peace y'all.

x

Forty-seven winks short of the impossible and I'm floating amongst the dead & gone...

How could Math class be so poetic? Who knew?

At any rate, now, along with Chemistry and Mr. Zigby, I have a third pimp, Mr. Zwetkow.

Ugh.

ME FAIL MATH != POSSIBLE!

Yeah, not cool. I'd appreciate at least a pass on the Physics labs, and maybe a pass + better than all my friends so they can burn in Limbo for not having been SciFair partners with me.

Now I'll have to be alone, and my project will sUx0r the penis.

Gahz0rz.

On the, um, good news front [GNF] I aced the Econ test... 28/30... Not too shabby at all.

Maybe my Economics mark will cancel out my Math mark and I'll make honour roll with flying colours!

Of course, then something will have to cancel out my English, French, Chemistry and Physics marks. I don't see that as being physically possible, unless I get 1,000,000,000 % in History.

Who knows, stranger things have happened, like [no I'm not obsessed]

I had a stroke today.

As in, as I was trying not to kill something on the heels of my math failure, and loading and unloading my bad with my locker, Jin walked on by, and stroked me as she passed.

WTF?

As far as I can tell, this is just some "oh-he's-supposed-to-like-me-but-he's-ignoring-me-so-I'll-breach-the-physical-barrier-to-see-what-happens" type thing.

Whatever.

Anyways, poor Them is irritable because D. is away on the Stratford Trip [eSTi] so I won't make any jokes at his expense, especially not about his Math abilities.

*cough*

Heheh.

AAAAAAAAA H MMMMMM

Boy, do I ever need to get my act together...

Realrealbad.

Badrealbad.

Fuckfuckfuck.

I'm lonely, bored, depressed, cynical, in over my head, hating myself, hating lots of other people, awash in a sea of misery, and, sadly, listening to Creed.

Yes, I know, it's a pretty sad situation.

Won't someone out there save me?

xalex

Read between the lines of what's fucked up and everything's alright

Or, make that nothing.

Nothing's alright.

This weekend has been piss.

Pure, straight, unadulterated urine on alexei.

FUCKING 'ELL.

BLOODY WANKING SHITE.



You have no idea how badly i need respite from this trash. Oh it's been so bad... gah.

My cousins and aunt came over. They weren't so bad but they added nothing and were a chore to deal with. I got a good argument on abortion in, three decent chess games, and I played a little bit of basketball.

No one was online, ever, until today, and even then it wasn't that great [mostly because no Them X(] and the aftermath of the Sandy's Party fiasco resulted in a severely depressing conversationg with Dehui. My parents are getting after me about getting a job, I forgot a whole lot of fucking shit at school, including my science fair sheet, which is due tomorrow and has to be signed by my parents, not to mention I don't have a partner because the rest of BC screwed me over [You have no idea how much i ache inside...] and I'll have to study for my physics test throughout the day. This weekend has been mostly an exercise in "let's-see-how-much-we-can-make-alex-hate-himself-o-rama" whoop de fucking doo ...

Man, the design of this site is lacking.

Too bad you can't be more liberal in your choosing of layouts and design your own to an extent. Maybe a switch to greatestjournal is in order? My problem with that is that Blogger rocks GJ's socks.

We'll see.

Anydangway.

So my profile is updating again... I'm averaging 310 words a post or so. Pretty slick.

I said, a few hours ago, that the mechanics had changed. I'm still convinced of that. Here is the story.

"...push the envelope, watch it bend..."

In this case the envelope = Dehui's patience with my antics.

Apparently last night, everything I did in relation to Jin was == an enormous faux pas, and that now that they've told her that I tentatively like her (I hope that's what they told her at any rate) she's puzzled and/or weirded out by my lack of visible feelings toward her. This is mostly because this kind of stuff has happened before and I don't want to make the same old mistakes - so I'm cool with making a whole set of new ones, I guess, in this circumstance. In the past generally Alex's approach into something like this was to go super-emo, and pay attention to only Jin, really until everyone else knew about it and that put extra strain on me - and to boot I had no chance anyway, so it was just a great big ugly mess. Secondly, like Sandee said, Jin has an attitude which I don't want to run afoul of, and I certainly don't want to presume that she tolerates and/or accepts my semi-feelings for her. So lacking confidence and cold, hard facts on the matter, I do nothing. Forgive me if this sounds logical, I tend to think things over a lot.

Anyway, I've got lots of time, and, barring her getting asked out by anyone else [though come to think of it... that's a distinct possibility... that sort of mistake has tripped me up in the past. though i doubt i could have made much of a difference had i taken a different chain of action.] my chance, or chances, will come, and depending on how this unfolds, things will happen. Should be interesting. I'd like to invite you all along for the ride. Cordially, even, too.

I wanted to talk to Dehui about this beforehand [before the blog post, if you folla me] because I figured maybe some info from her would clarifiy matters, and maybe make her annoyed, which is always amusing [i kid, i kid, stop hitting me] being that she talked to both Jin and Sandy about the whole mess last night behind [literally] my back.

So it seems that the success, if that's what you call it, of the poetry experience, was diminished noticeably by my screw-ups last night. I don't think the middle finger over my shoulder helped either.

And got heim Brian and Ray were idiots. Oi. My bleeding eyes, and ears, ugh.

Anyway, stay hip and happening folks, I'm off to listen to some better music than yours. If San, D., or Them reads this, and wants to comment on the situation, hit me up email-style.

-*

Aight so things got weirded up last night...

Majorly.

Well, maybe not so much.

But I think they dynamic's changed.

I'll get back to you later, when I've contemplated the matter some more.

Don't catch feelings.

Peace.

(A)

O Irony of ironies...

Jin's only [so far] email to me in my Gmail account was, guess which number, that one that makes people laugh, that one special number which Them's msn name referenced, that's right, no deletions, no insertions, Jin's first email to me was email # 69 to my Gmail account. 69. That's right, 69. You're reading that right. Not 68, or 59, or any of those non-significant digits, it was 69.

That, folks, treasured blog-readers, is what I call irony, proving once and for all that Osama bin Laden and his cowardly terrorists failed to kill the unkillable despite killing a whole lot of people. I've always had a problem with calling them innocent, because let's be real, no one is. I hate to smack you in the face like reality, Raine Maida, but we aren't, we aren't all innocent. No one == perfect, thus no one == innocent. If you mean innocent of any crime committed against the terrorists, well, in their eyes clearly existing was a crime thus making them criminals and therefore not innocent. So as much as my heart goes out to all the 3-years-and-change dead, and anyone who's read into the archives a bit, or has talked to me in the past will know, I'm not one to make fun of the whole mess, I do play devil's advocate a lot.

Anyway, as I was saying, it's ironic. "What could it mean," you might ask, "is fate spitting in his face and laughing at him? Or is it proof of things to come?" Are you being realistic and saying, "Alex you're reading way too far into this, it's just a coincidence and the fact that you're making such a big deal of it is basically just downright creepy."? If you answered yes to any of the above, please take a moment to read Jin's poem, and then read mine, and then agree with me when I say her poem spanks mine as hard as, well, I won't go there, but suffice to say, she thinks mine is bettar and she is clearly on teh crack.

--------------------------------

I had regularly studied the bridge of his nose

Or his brows when we spoke face to face.

Never did I look into those piercing eyes…

Afraid I would be scrutinized down to every inch of skin,

flesh, not one fine hair undetected.

Scared to be transfixed in a deathly gaze.



He told me that our eyes are the windows to our souls

and I would eventually take that step to look him straight,

eye to eye,

but not until he gains my confidence.



At last, I did, but only to uncover my silhouette.

However, I discovered a whole new world of colors

once I reached in deeper, as I was grasping for what it was at the time.

knowledge? Or maybe simply just to understand.



His eyes were a sweet honey brown when he was mellow,

A forest green when he was enraged

And hazel when he smiled,

laughed,

and cried.



I do not look anymore.

There’s nothing more to see.

They are merely impenetrable bloodshot spheres,

of emptiness,

obscurity.



His lashes no longer meet…

------------------------

Now compare that piece of brilliance, a boring old Danish, if you will, with this delicious doorstop of an overrated poem:

____________________________

Lying, sprawled, in the dry sand grass,
Me and her whisper sweet somethings,
Or whatever they are called, into each
Others' ears; time, unending, passes us
By, uncaring, we smile with gawky looks
About us, and twirl the golden stalks
Betwixt our love-clumsied fingers, sighing
With the breeze, in perfect harmony with
Each other and Nature. Suddenly,
Clouds come rolling by on roads of
Tension in the air, they expand menacingly
Towards us, and begin their discharge.
Mighty is the storm, but we lie here in
Defiance; acting as though nothing had
Changed. The orage, enraged, doubles
Its efforts, attempting to drive us to shelter
Ourselves, but, persecuted, we resist.
Then lightning strikes, and everything
Is white.

_______________________________

That's right. Mine sucks, just like, well I won't go there either, but [Them, my pants are *on*] the point is she's clearly, as I said before, on crack. Which, of course, would explain both her lack of sense and her poetical skills, to some extent.

Now upon reading those two poems, a few conclusions must be drawn.

1) They're both about a guy and a girl. This could meanL 1) Our future together is assured. 2) We both have one -track minds, being teenagers, and single. 3) There just aren't that many poetry subjects out there anyway, and we just independently wrote on similar topics. Nothing special.

Secondly, now that we've both seen a sampling of each other's work, and think that it's better than our own, we have a good start to a healthy professional and personal relationship, known as Artistic Mutual Respect, or AMR. Any similarities to the word amour mentioned here will get you killed on the spot. We can now appraise other people's A&L submissions with more confidence because we clearly have the others' respect, if somewhat misguided.

Things are looking up.

Thank you Sandy.

Also, I have been informed [by Them, no less] that Dehui may or may not have tried to set me up with her this afternoon.

You'll have to fill me in on that.

So, after that whole blog post about Jin,

I think I need some alcohol. And sunlight.

XP

a

newsFLASH

They're like hot flashes except without the gender and age discrimination.

Anyway.

Bleuhh.

You know you're in high french when a 92 is fifth-quintile stuff.

Not that I'm complaining. It's what I deserved. But it is a little depressing.

Also, you know you're in Physics, first term, when you get a 60 on the homework and that's third-quintile material.

Bwahahaha. Wou got a 20%. That makes me feel better about myself.

And I think I did well on the Chemisty pop quiz.

But not so hot on the Economics test.

Sandee was right, again, I guess.

So, after that very marks-based intro.

I continue. A little further down the spiral. A little less inhibited. And I keep going.

Gliding along the surface
Gyrating, revolving
I can barely see through shutter eyes
But I can feel your presence

And who
Should I
Come across
But you

The shadow over
And behind me
Shades you over too
It took a while but now I see

Now who
Should I
Come across
But you

Gliding along the surface
Gyrating, revolving
I can barely see through shutter eyes
But we can dance right through this

Man, Lateralus is so damn good.

yAhweh

Remember, whatever, it seems like forever ago...

So the song of the moment is definitely Green Day - Whatsername.

Listen to it by any means you can.

Just do it.

Now, then, down to brass tacks, on to business, get your rear in gear, etc.

Well, I'm not really sure how to classify this week. It's been majorly rollercoaster, I guess would be the best description.

My lack of sleep is starting to fuck me over.

This is clearly clear.

And it sucks.

I need to get some artsy-fartsy shit together for tomorrow.

Must... submit... to A&L...

Which reminds me, I have to print out my anonymous poem.

Further down the spiral, as Trent Reznor once said, Jin != going anywhere.

I wonder if this job is actually going to have me working together with her at all, like in the yearbook room or something at some point, because she sure as hell isn't coming on MSN, ever, and I don't want to be all stalker-ish and start emailing/calling her up etc. because that's just weird.

So I guess I'll just let things simmer, if you will, while I try to get the rest of my life decent looking. Looks like I'ma need the Lord for this one, not that I don't always, but I tend to forget, like the bad [*ahem*] Christian that I am. Prayer set in effect, what what.

Anyway, for all of you who were just weirded out by that display of faith, well, fuck off. As Them told me to say so determinedly.

So on the grad noms side of things, I'm getting nominated, so far as I can tell, for four categories: Most artistic, should've gone out [with more than one person, no less], most evil and, of course, the ever-present worst jokes.

All of which are probably true.

I'd laugh if I was on the ballot twice for should've gone out.

That would be weird, and would prove that our grade is just a bunch of meddling wankers taking the piss.



Seriously.

Anyhow.

Time to get the art skills going.

I gotta go.

"...and in the darkest night / if my memory serves me right /i'll never turn back time / forgetting you but not the time..."

A

...and then it hit me...

Okay, so nothing in particular, but I figured today would be a relaxed-thoughts post.

So, here goes.

Man, I want to win Grad noms for something. The prestige! The honour! The glory and the pizza! Well, maybe not the pizza. But anyway. This is like my life's goal, along with passing Chemistry this term. Speaking of which, I should probably get around to filling mine out. I'll include all of you somewhere, somehow, probably, if you deserve it.

My lyrics are going enh lately. It's kinda sad that the best thing I have to submit to A&L. Of course that's probably because it's a poem and the others are lyrics. Also, I'll need to get my drawing game more on point. Jin said something about doing one together, and I said I was going to submit something on my own anyway but I'd be down with that. In retrospect it looks like I kinda turned her off the idea. I'll have to ask tomorrow. Not that we'd have much time to do it anyway. Shit. Fuck. Let's hope I didn't blow my first chance to actually get to know her.

Anyway.

So American Idiot is getting more skilled. It definitely gets my props. I did my French oral presentation today. Apparently I didn't suck terribly. That's definitely good. Mr. Zigby's mean though >< I hate lunch detentions. Not that I've ever had one before. But the one today really screwed up my flow, if you will. I didn't get it back until I listened to some Green Day on the way to the bus. That was cool.

In related news, I have to get Sandy a present for Saturday night. Holla atcha boy if you want anything. If not I'm warning you it might suck. Just being frank with you and all.

Dan's probably laughing right now.

Anyway. I can't wait until the Audioslave and Tool albums drop - and the U2 one. But what I'm really looking forward to is ZdlR's solo album. Which is not on the near horizon, I think.

Crapz0rz.

><

Which brings me to my next point: I've bought more CD's this year than most other years combined. I'm not sure if this is because now I care about music more, there's more good stuff coming out, I just have the cash, or what, but I bought 7 CDs this year. And we're still only in October. I'll probably buy the U2 one, which will make 8.

Or, two thirds of my CD collection. And that's not counting the ones I don't like anymore.

So hennywayss.

My profile finally updated yesterday. I'm averaging about 303 words a post over 48 posts.

SKIIIIILLZ.

So comment, mofos, because I told you to.

Do it.

"...i beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies / this is the dawning of the rest of our lives / this is our lives on holiday..."

*

-a.

So I got American Idiot and Thirteenth Step today...

And both are unbearably skilled.

Not much time though so I'll just leave you with this:

"...though i ran into you down on the street / the it turned out to only be a dream..."

@

*

Well, good news, good news indeed.

After my polemic blog post yesterday, all the Nazi punks who were reading my blog fucked off. Pretty skilled. There were two of them, apparently.

Punks.

Anyway. Down to brass tacks, to the bread and butter of this blog post: *takes off hockey helmet*

I got beef.

That's right, beef.

You read it right.

I double dare you to be weirded out right now.

I got beef.

And I don't mean meat coming from a cow, neither.

I mean, I got beef. I got a problem. I got a bone to pick, to stick with butcher-language, with life.

Something's stuck in my craw, if you will.

This is my beef:

There are just too many fucking people in this life.

And because there are so damn many fucking people the world over, populating nearly every damn last inch of the planet, something happens.

You know what happens?

I'll tell you what happens.

The amount of awesome, and I mean fucking awesome, incredible, special, one-of-a-kind, blink-and-you-miss-'em, jaw-dropping, heart-stopping people in this life of ours, goes way way up.

There are tons of 'em.

Millions, even.

Even a one in a million person, in this life, is pretty common. Think about it, with 6-and-a-quarter-billion people on this planet, there are about 6,250 one-in-a-million people in the world right now.

That may not sound like a lot but try fitting 6-and-a-quarter-thousand geniuses, thespians, artists, philantropists, musicians, mathematicians, kind souls, philosophers, etc. into your living room, and you'll find you're about a small city short of space.

And that's just the one-in-a-million people.

Think, in our lives, all the people we pass by every day that we'll quite possibly never see again, that we'll never talk to, who could be practically soulmates, or, I dunno, become our best friend if given 30 seconds of conversation, people who could change our perspectives forever, that we'll never ever get to sit down and chat with.

It's maddening, is what it is.

So that's your thought for the day, and think about it, and think about it good.

Alex

Nazi Punks Fuck Off!

Just thought I'd point out that this is an anti-racist blog, and that any Nazi punks reading it should kindly fuck off.

That having been said, and all points to Jello Biafra, here's a blog entirely for Them. Because I said I would do it. And he needs tomsehing to read in the morning. That's right, I said tomsehing. Figure out what it means for yourself, punk.

So, I present to you, before I actually finish the blog off, a survey, obtained from San-san, that I took. Read away, and find out all about me and maybe even yourself.


Nicknames: Alexei, Lexy, Manners, Manley, Awexei, etc.
Sex: Not yet.
Age: 16
Birthday: 16/09/88
Birth place: Montreal
Zodiac Sign: Dragon, I think. w00t.

Favourites:
Colours: Black, red, navy, white.
Animals: Wolves, and hell, most any big carnivors.
Anime Characters: Sasuke, Naruto, Kakashi, Vegeta, Cell
Actresses: On the strength of looks alone, Natalie Portman and Keira Knightley
Actors: Um, Tom Cruise,
Movies: Princess Mononoke, The Matrix
Types of music: Metal, punk, rock, ska, hip hop/rap, some mainstream.
Singers: Bob Marley, everyone else is in groups, I guess ZdlR on his own.
Bands/Groups: Tool, APC, RATM, AFI, Audioslave, NOFX, Dead Kennedys, Metallica, Minor Threat, Green Day, The Beatles, AC/DC, U2
CDs: RATM - RATM, RATM - Evil Empire, Tool - Lateralus, Audioslave - Audioslave
Love songs: In A Little While - U2, Love Song - APC (Live The Cure cover)
Breakup songs: Tool - Schism
Happy songs: None XP No seriously I don't listen to happy songs. I just don't.
All time favorite songs: Know Your Enemy - RATM, The Grudge - Tool, Light My Way - Audioslave, The Noose - APC
Books: Joshua Then & Now, Barney's Version, 1984
Authors: Mordecai Richler
Video games: None
Computer games: Civilization 2 (soon to be 3, methinks)
Foods: Pizza
Ice creams: Coconut, ginger, banana, stuff like that. I had some awesome blueberry in Halifax once.
Cookies: Ginger snaps, what what.
Veggies: Carrots & Green peppers
Fruits: Apples, peaches, strawberries, raspberries, etc.
Candies: Skittles, Starbursts
Beverages: Vanilla Pepsi, Root Beer, Orange Crush
Cereals: Honey Bunches of Oats (with Almonds), Honey Nut Cheerios, Apple Cinnamon Cheerios, Vector, Just Right, etc.
Music videos: The Leaving Song, Pt II - AFI
Gum: Peppermint
Pizza toppings: Pepperoni, mushrooms, green peppers, green olives if possible
Fast food joints: McDonald's, I don't have the strength of mind to go to more than one fast food joint. I only go once or twice a year anyhow.
Fast food meals: Big Macs and Chicken McNuggets, wow I'm such a fatwhore. Heh.
Pig out foods: Pizza, w00t.
Restaurant: Copoli, what what. Maybe SM Pizza.
Outfits: Stuff that goes okay with my awesome shoes.
Stores: Foot Locker
Sports: Hockey, Basketball, soccer, hacky sack!
Athletes: Patrick Roy, Lebron James, Vladimir Guerrero
Breakfast foods: Cereal
Shampoos: Um... Pears Aloe Vera? Shit, I don't know
Magazines: Adbusters, Hour and Mirror... hell, even Exclaim if they count. I don't think they do though.

Love Life
Do you have a boyfriend/girlfriend?: Not currently, no.
If so, who are they?: No one.
Do you love them?: Hell no.
How long have you been dating?: One year and 31 days.
Do you have a crush?: Who doesn't?
Would you rather be single or taken right now?: Probably taken, but then the grass is always greener...
How many people have you dated this past year?: None.
How many people have you kissed in your life?: 1
How many people have you said "I love you" to and meant it?: 0
If you didn't mean it, why did you say it?: Because I'm an idiot.
Have you ever had a hard time getting over someone?: Yes.
Are you friends with your ex/exes?: Ali doesn't consider herself my ex, so no.
Have you ever cheated on someone?: No
Have you ever been cheated on?: Not that I know of.
What's the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for you?: Um... obliged with a goodbye kiss?
What do you look for in your ideal mate?: Looks, mind, musical taste, (for Them: race! XP)
Biggest Turn-ons: Oh, if she can impress the hell out of me in any way, that works. Most people can't.
Turn-offs: All sorts of things. Mostly just being ordinary. I like crazy, different people.
Best quote to sum up love: Love sucks.

Morals/Beliefs
What religion are you?: Theist with Anglican Christian leanings.
Do you got to church regularly?: Not lately, to my dismay.
What do you think happens when you die:? That depends on whether or not you're going to hell.
Do you believe in God?: Moreso than many.
Satan?: Yes. He's annoying.
Angels?: Yes, but not conventionally.
Heaven?: Yes, I hope so.
Hell?: Yeah.
Are you a virgin?: And proud, or embarrassed.
What do you think of abortion?: Pro-life unless rape is involved.
Suicide?: Natural selection at work.
War?: Ditto XP okay, no seriously war sucks the penis.
Pop music?: Oh God, make it stop.

What Did You Do...
Last weekend?: Nothing I can remember.
Yesterday?: School.
Your last birthday?: Nothing, but some strange people showed up at my house in the morning though.
New Years Eve?: I think I was over at my friend's place. There was a party for all ages. Thrown by his dad and step-mom.
Valentines Day?: Hated the world.
Easter?: Church, what what.
4th of July?: Did fuck-all.
Halloween?: Sat at home in fear of the whole thing. Stupid shit fucking holiday.
Thanksgiving?: Attempted to be thankful?
Christmas Eve?: Waited.
Christmas Day?: Was materialistic.

What do you think you'll be doing in...
A week from now?: A&L / schoolwork / I don't know.
A month from now?: No clue.
A year from now?: Fucking around in CEGEP.
5 years from now?: Dead, homeless, jailed or famous. Please not boring.
10 years from now?: Um, a rock singer? Are we being realistic, or hopeful here?
20 years from now?: Hopefully with someone, and no kids.
50 years from now?: Being cooler than most 66 year olds.

Friends
Nicest: Dan, I guess. Dehui gets an honourable mention XP
Bitchiest: Me!
Prettiest: Dehui, I guess. That's being objective, hey Dan, don't hurt me.
Hottest?: San-san XP
Best eyes: That's kinda creepy.
Best hair: Um...
Biggest tease: Me
Rudest: Koj!
Shyest: Awi, hah.
Loudest: Dehui
Smartest: Ali
Blondest: San-san! XP
Drama Queen: Me, far and away.
Biggest Flirt: Me again.
Tallest: Dan, you fokker.
Shortest: Um... toss-up between San-san and Dehui I thinks.
Most likely to become a model?: Jackie I guess, I dunno. She's got the height factor going for her.
Most likely to be rich?: Probably Dan.
Most talented: Ali... Grrr.
Craziest?: Me. Dehui too.
Weirdest?: If by weird, you mean awesome, Sachi.
Biggest Druggie?: No one. I got the straight edge, if you will ><
Thuggest?: Hahahaha... me.
Girliest?: San-san or me. ><
Most caring?: Dan, hah.
Most independent?: Also Dan.

This or That
Chocolate or Vanilla?: Kiwi, you fucker.
Mom or Dad?: Dad.
Blonde or Brunette?: Black hair > brown, but both > blonde so brunette.
Spicy or Minty gum?: Both.
Nsync or Backstreet Boys?: The Beatles
The Beatles or The Rolling Stones?: Bob Dylan
Boys or Girls?: Depends on what for.
France or England?: France so far. England hasn't put a bid in yet.
Cookies or Cake?: Nanaimo bars.
Flower or Candy?: Depression.
Doctors or Dentist?: Psychiatrist, right Dan/Dehui/Ali?

Ever Been Called...
Dumb?: Mmhm.
Retarted?: Mmhm.
Ugly?: Mmhm.
Hot?: Mmhm.
Fat?: Mmhm. People are weird, I guess.
Anorexic?: Mmhm.
A waste of space?: Not yet but it's coming...
Useless?: Maybe, can't remember.
Sexy?: Sexei, yes.
Smelly?: Mmhm. A common refrain.
A Slut?: No, surprisingly XP
Beautiful?: Nope.
Smart?: Once or twice.
Quiet?: I get that all the time. I should try speaking my mind more often, people say.
Boring?: Ali...
A Bitch?: By Ms. Lang, no less. Okay, no but still.
Rebel?: Hahahaha yes.
Conceited?: Of course. At least, I hope so.

Currently
What are you wearing?: Basketball shorts, boxers, a black tee and my Akron's Finest trucker.
Who are you talking to?: Well, San-san before she signed out.
How is the weather?: Dark.
What are you listening to?: Seventeen Seconds - The Cure
What/Who are you thinking about?: This survey.
What are you eating/drinking?: Nada.
What are you looking forward to?: Not much. My life is pretty bleak.
What are you dreading?: Tests, and the responsibilities of A&L.
How are you feeling?: Blahed.
How is your hair?: Too short to be sexei. ;_;
What time is it?: 1:40 am EST

So, all that having been said, um, today sucked but oh well. I didn't really do anything at all.

I, uh, wish I had a point of view to extrapolate on, or to expound, some awesomeness to exude, but not really.

So I leave you with this:

con·tin·u·um    ( P )  Pronunciation Key  (kn-tny-m)
n. pl. con·tin·u·a (-tny-) or con·tin·u·ums

n : a continuous nonspatial whole or extent or succession in which no part or portion is distinct of distinguishable from adjacent parts

And this is how you spell quaaludes. Not qualuudes.

"...i'm a street-walking cheetah with a heart full of napalm..."

A l e x t r e m e

\m/

*

Engineered

Nothing to do on a friday night and i'm in the mood for nihilism
Lie around out of whack as i contemplate my very own commuschism
Watch the fundamental breakdown in slow motion on national television
Laugh at your idiocy while behind my back i practice self-deprecation

Yeah, I engineered this whole mess on my own
Let he who is without sin throw the first stone
Try to knock me off this motherfucking throne
While I tell you that you're gonna
Burn, burn, yes you're gonna burn,
Burn, burn, yes you're gonna burn,
Burn, burn, yes you're gonna burn,
Burn, burn, yes you're gonna burn!

Engines ignite, mechanical animals as they explode in a moment
Your window closes and the fire spreads as you try to recuperate; own it
Despite your clear lack of understanding you press on and you know I won't stop you
But if you fall don't get mad when you die because sorry babe but I don't got you

Yeah, I engineered this whole mess on my own
Let he who is without sin throw the first stone
Try to knock me off this motherfucking throne
While I tell you that you're gonna get owned...

'Cause you know they call me the, uh, the engineer
Now you got a voice in your ears to put to your fears

Cause you're gonna
Burn, burn, yes you're gonna burn,
Burn, burn, yes you're gonna burn,
Burn, burn, yes you're gonna burn,
Burn, burn, yes you're gonna burn!



So life is good. And not a wrong window moment at all.

I love you all.

Time for some new music, methinks.

"...'cause we want it all..."

*