bad habits – f-your blog

Pentagram -Last Days Here

I’m a massive fan of the early Ozzy led Black Sabbath, but when I heard the Heavy/ Doom Metal band Pentagram I was awe struck. In my honest and vastly unpopular opinion that Pentagram exceeds Black Sabbath not in lyrical content but in Advanced Musical Techniques/Style of the Doom Metal. Pentagram’s music was more evolved than Black Sabbath even if both bands got their start around the same time. Based on my opinion I fully believe Pentagram and not Black Sabbath should receive the dubious honor of being the first pioneers of Heavy Metal (because without the precursor of Doom Metal then the Heavy Metal genre wouldn’t have come to be).

Last Days Here is the 2011 Documentary film featuring Bobby Liebling, lead singer of the American heavy metal band Pentagram Directed by Don Argott and Demian Fenton.

Pentagram- Last Days Here Synopsis:

Co-Director Fenton first became familiar with Liebling after listening to Pentagram’s 1970s recordings on cassette tape and the 2001 compilation First Daze Here, and enjoying the early Pentagram material. He had heard the rumors surrounding Liebling, including him living in the basement of his parent’s house and spending all day and night heavily ingesting illegal drugs.

Last Days Here follows Bobby Liebling, lead singer of Pentagram, an Alexandria, Virgina-based heavy metal group founded in 1971 and active sporadically throughout the following four decades. At the film’s beginning , Liebling is in his 50s, living in Squalor in his parents’ basement, and addicted to various drugs (Pills, Heroin, and Crack). After Pentagram’s music is rediscovered by the heavy metal underground scene, Liebling begins to recover from his lifestyle. His friend and manager Sean “Pellet” Pelletier attempts to help Liebling overcome his drug addiction and escape his old life. The film ends in 2010 with Liebling and Pentagram returning to the stage and Liebling sober, married and his new wife expecting their first child.

Enjoy.

Heavy Metal NEVER Dies!

Presented BY Otto Rageous

WITHDRAWALS OF THE MISUNDERSTOOD PART 1

Hey Spacedog here….

It’s been a while. There was not going to originally be a post until next week but I just decided yesterday that enough was enough. What is it that I am coming off of you ask?

Well first off, my absence from here is mostly pandemic related. Out of all the billions of individuals in the world, I am probably in the top 1% of people with insane paranoid reactions. Eventually though I kinda grew to like it. I got to wear a mask so no one would know who I was. I didn’t have to worry if suddenly after 8 years of grand mal seizures today would be the day and I’d go straight into the Delaware River on my way to my doctor’s office. And I didn’t have to have any house guests! I became the Maybelline Girl. Maybe she’s born with it maybe it’s Maybelline! I was born for this.

Anyway….

So I’ve got to say I have been quite a bit off about one thing I have been telling people recently. My sobriety date from alcohol…. I really thought I drank this year. Nope the receipts clearly show November 17, 2019. Not that the difference between that and February 1st really matters much to me. All I know is the last 3 times I drank were rum, beer, and sparkling seltzer in that order. The rum tasted stale so I ended up dumping 4 ozs of a 14 oz bottle. The beer I ended up having to just toss after 5 of 12 because frankly it made me feel beyond shitty. As for the sparkling seltzer it was surprisingly good but actually still made me feel awful afterwards. Most of these manifestations I describe above were physical.

I sorta just quit. I did not need any bells and whistles or pats on the back. I kinda just did it on my own and it was mine and mine alone. No one could brag about how wonderful of a person they were to get me sober (while doing meth on the side, thanks AA Sponsor #6) or how they were so vital to my recovery (Here looking at you Sponsor #4, enjoy the oxys). Frankly I just did not care anymore. I guess I’m at day 275 or 276 or something for those who are counting. Frankly I’m not…..

So what is it I am coming off of right now? It’s nothing sexy or dangerous like meth or heroin or molly or crack or coke. Just some plain old cigarettes and coffee.

I can honestly say I feel entirely better than I thought I would at this point. I am a master at coming off of drugs, but sadly I am a bit rusty. I feel between all the antidepressants, heroin (several times), alcohol, and mood stabilizers I have been in this moment at least 30 different occasions before.

This occasion is really mild. The heroin was the worst by far but only when I was snorting it. I honestly only even got minor withdrawal no matter how much I shot. Alcohol I had about 2 Leaving Las Vegas spells in my 20s, but not really any withdrawal other than that.

The anti-depressants quite honestly to me were the biggest joke as well as the hardest legal drugs I have ever had to come off of. Depakote, lithium, effexor, paxil, prozac, seroquil, serzone. A laundry list of harm to me. Suicidal, emotionless, too much fake joy, sexless, mania, and winner winner chicken dinner homicidal respectively.

I seriously called poison control when it came to the Serzone. I kept thinking of what kind of knives my neighbors had and what it would be like to use them. And my nails look like I applied a bright coat of dark pink nail polish. P Control literally had no idea how to help me with what was going on. I called my friend Seth on the phone a few minutes later and he informed me he was on that garbage and to have some milk. A minute later my nails returned to normal, my thoughts came back shortly after.

Honestly coffee was going to be a battle for next week to give up but as I settled in on my couch at home I smelled the faint scent of flowers. It was mostly roses but maybe some lavender or lilac. I usually get this when my spirit guide is nearby. Anyway so I figured I’d just go to bed. At 6pm.

Then woke up at 130 and started writing this blog. I think I wholeheartedly can say that 1:30AM is a shitty ass time to wake up. I suppose this would be the absolute perfect time to wake up if I were say a rapist. Boom sober, boom bar, boom victim and whatever else rapey people do in between. Spray themselves down with the most vile of scents. I’m sure there are nice smelling rapists but frankly none of my rapists were Glade Scent Stories inspired. Obscure reference I know…. glade scent stories were this little thing that looked like a CD Walkman and you put the CD in and it would through a few scents per CD.

Physically though I’m feeling pretty good all things considered. I was highly disappointed that I was not able to pick out any online courses last evening but if my path is less than 24 hours off I really shouldn’t let myself worry too much. I really am not missing the cigarettes a whole lot especially without that stupid nicotine patch making my arm itch like crazy.

Coffee…. well I’ve just been trying to find any and all negative information. All I know is it comes from a plant and well I am inching oh so close to the Carnivore Diet or something similar. I still haven’t felt right since I juiced kale, zucchini, brocolli and lime. It tasted terrible. Rape victim of the jolly Green Giant terrible. Threw up 30 minutes later and passed out for 2.5 hours after.

So coffee….wheeeeee….. I probably should have tapered off down to 1 cup a day before I quit but I’m always up for a bigger challenge and a better suffering at this point. I’ve been drinking 3-5 cups a day for a few weeks. All this self imposed lockdown, this suffering, this absence of bliss will pay off in spades one day I tell myself.

I just don’t want to be half sober. I feel all of these people out there in Alcoholics Anonymous and all these other recovery programs are the biggest bunch of hypocrites on the planet. They are following around a plan based on 80 years of complete horseshit and pseudoscience. I guess I get it though. Most people are too weak and broken to get better on their own. They never seek their answers within and only rely on outside counsel. They drink coffee like fish, chain smoke like the marlboro man, and eat some of the worst cookies on the planet. Like seriously maybe I hadn’t been to a meeting in a while, but Chips Ahoy?

I see most of these people now for what they truly are. A bunch of dry drunks going around who like to preach to others because it gives them a sense of self importance. My way or the highway they say.

The absolute funniest thing about these people is they will engage you in normal conversation until you mention that you are not in AA. It’s like I single-handedly broke the matrix somehow. Seriously far more people get sober when not in this archaic broken program. The effectiveness is probably somewhere between aspirin between the knees and self baptism in your favorite local polluted body of water. I guess I shouldn’t knock anyone though it’s just frustrating.

I was put on this Earth to help others and sometimes I think the only way I am going to be able to do it is lie my teeth off. Sure I can lie my teeth off if I meet you somewhere by random chance….. like if I needed to come up with a BS story for my Grubhub driver or a grocery store clerk. When it comes to write though I don’t have that luxury. It’s just not in my blood. Brutal honesty or no writing. Only two options here.

But the moral of the story is it is only day 2 and day 1. cigarettes and coffee. It would be nice to be able to honestly just listen in to an AA meeting but I know I am not welcome at any. Well of course I am just not one meeting in particular I went to drunk because my wonderful sponsor #3 thought that Tori Amos concerts were going to somehow involve me shooting meth and going to circuit parties.

man I pick the winners! I seriously hope I don’t pick a husband as poorly one day as these sponsors. My award-winning sponsor picking is literally on par with Larry King and his fantastic wife picking. (I have no idea who any of his wives are, but I just assume if that many people would willing marry someone he either has a giant penis or a giant bank account) .

Gotta pick courses now will post tomorrow if I am not dead already.

By Spacedog

Misunderstandings, mishaps, and misguidance….

Sometimes things are done that are irreversible. Whether they are words, whether they are thoughts, whether they are actions, whatever means the university has to dispense of them, they to be insurmountable when they occur.

I almost wrote about one of these misunderstandings lately. Fortunately the gods of social media, let the misunderstanding between the X on my browser and the little button called submit blur. This was a positive misunderstanding.

However most misunderstanding is not positive. Most of it is what divides people from one another. Misunderstanding is different then a lie. Lies are purposeful and can be hurtful whether or not they were intended to be. It’s just that most lies can be exposed as such. As lies, as mistrusts, as transparent as the shaky foundations they were built from.

They can be fixed in many cases, harmless in others, and cause a complete lack of mistrust and mishap and all the other mis- words you want to think of when done on a frequent basis.

Misunderstanding is where the real problem lies. Too many people are too busy with their lives, with the things going on; important and complete frivolity to even bother to try and understand others and the things they say and the things they do to try and grasp a more complete picture.

Of course there are people who I would rather have misunderstand me then know the complete and total picture. We repaint this on a daily basis, usually just a few strokes here and there on the canvas, other times we wish to start a whole new work of art. Usually it is just a few strokes here and there with an occasional day of massive labour to complete a few more pieces of the puzzle then usual.

Who then are we most upset about when a total lack of understanding occurs??? For me this is friends, parents, lovers, mainly the people closest to me in my life whom I wish to share more of myself with then the casual stranger. Unfortunately this misunderstanding occurs in these situations as well and sometimes it gets a bit more deep then it should, whether the fault of one party or both.

For myself the part about misunderstanding and mishaps, the part occurring involving former lovers and friends, current and former, have shaped things more then anything involving my family.

For me, at least in all my experiences so far, the misunderstandings for me that are hardest are those involving love. Friends and lovers. Lovers and friends.

Love actually????
So what is love? It is a word some people throw around as if they were throwing a penny into the grab penny, take a penny or a penny into a water fountain; while to others it is something that is rarely said in fact all too rarely.

People are so afraid of this word for the most part however but for it to be said meaning friendly love and respect it is rarely done with a throat penetrating kiss or even with a very deep look in the eye unless maybe you are looking at one of your parents. Even if you look at them too deeply, that might be considered incest in some regions.

However when love is said to mean something more then just the friendly type, it is done with a certain tone, it is done with a deep look in the eyes, it is followed by a kiss, a feeling of lightness and is not thrown around like pennies. It should be only used in very special circumstances and once it becomes fodder as a prelude to a kiss or rubbish in order to get your wife to throw up her legs it becomes meaningless as a person telling it to their acquaintances, frenemies, and one night stands.

I believe love can be shown in many different forms. The words, “I love you.” only mean so much. Actions are what show love. Doing nice things for people you care about, treating people with respect and decency consistently not when it is convenient, and holding the door for an old lady show love. Love for your fellow man.

While a lot of those things are just common courteousy, well guess what??? These are all love, just not the Romeo and Juliet bullshit that society raises us on. If they make children read that, why not give a counter point about Syd and Nancy, for better yet something boring about people such as my grandparents who have been together for nearly 60 years and have truly survived the old adage through better and through worse.

Back to misunderstanding…….and love……..

So what happens when love or lack thereof it is misunderstood???? It is a rather unfortunate event. Some people I have really cared about and definitely loved in a friendly, non-romantic manner, well frankly I am afraid to tell them I love them. For some people it is such a tabu, as if i told them to drink a cup of their own urine or walk naked into a church. And it hurts to not be able to say it, even without a look in their eyes, even without meaning, even without a passionate kiss, even without as slight as a passing glance.

It hurts because I feel that is what they need at the moment. Because I have not meant anyone yet who does not like being told that they are loved. It is just when people misunderstand the love that they are being given in which the issues begin.

I’m maybe a victim of this misunderstanding. Maybe because I was raised on Romeo and Juliet and not Syd and Nancy my ideas of romantic gestures are old fashioned, not newfangled. Maybe I’m the last person left who thinks of something sweet as candlelight and a homecooked meal and a freshly drawn bath and rose petals as being appropriate gestures of love, courtship; rather then a bottle of jim beam, a flea ridden motel, and a few packets of astroglide.

And since I sometimes believe this to be true, these are a few things I thought were universal, a few things I would never give to someone except under special circumstances.

The things

Anyway like I said maybe this is because I have too much of a grip on what societal norms seem to be, especially for a person who does not consider himself very much in the norm, but well I do I guess……

Flowers- I feel somewhat that flowers given to someone symbolize a certain love, however this pretty much can be devised into, what the note says if there is a note and if there is not the abundance of the flowers. Special circumstances also can apply like a housewarming gift, a holiday like mothers day, weddings, funerals, etc. However flowers given for no particular reason to me are not common places unless associated with love.

Chocolates- While chocolates never asked to be brought into this whole love mess they fucking have. Thankfully they come in those little gay heart shaped boxes for Valentines Day and come in cheap little packages like a Hershey bar to differentiate between the two of them.

Stuffed animals- Stuffed animals didn’t ask to be brought into this mess either but they have been. I have always thought as them as something a guy wins for his girl/boyfriend, child, wife at the shore and as nothing more or less. Especially when used a prelude to a sexual encounter or as the aftercare for being told you were like someone’s soulmate. But hey maybe I’m just old fashioned. Maybe I’m just stupid.

Banners from airplanes at the Jersey shore- If someone is going to dole out the cash to say they love you being dangled from an airplane or dangled any sort of thing for you up for the whole word to see, it’s either love or a psycho with way too much money.

(women only, maybe men?)- Undies from a place like Victoria Secret- Wait I don’t know about women, but can only imagine this would be love, psychopathy, or a husband buying their wife underwear 4 sizes too small as a suggestion his chick got a bit too big.

Anyway that’s about it I’m getting stupid and I’m more sure about it this time.

The ENDish

It is a shame, that they say all things must come to an end. But in many cases, this is the complete truth. When misunderstanding and mishaps combined equal more then the love of any kind it is very hard to repair without an open line of communication. It would seem for this not to be a very hard thing, yet most people do not wish to maintain communications such as that.

Yet it is the reason that I do things that may seem dumb to others. Like blog. Like saying hello to strangers and holding doors for the elderly. Like listening to others even when they have reached the twentieth degree of annoyance.
Like not needing to hide behind a private profile on social media. Like treating people in equal fashion and manner no matter who they are surrounded by or who I am surrounded by.

Of course I have not been perfect in this and sometimes fall back on my old ways of being a complete and total jackass. If it were perfection I were looking for, I would never have had any friends, any lovers, or even had a family to hold onto at this point in my life.

It is also the reason that people sometimes have very strong opinions of me without getting to know me and just knowing my words or a few choice actions. It is also the reason I may come across as a know-it-all, misinformed, stupid, intelligent, caring, asinine, naive, friendly, or as a complete jackass. But I would rather have people know me or try to have them know me then to constantly run and hide behind a million walls. Yes, it is healthy to have some walls but when all you are doing is building walls, there is no time to enjoy the house behind them.

So for those of you I consider my family and friends I would consider to be like family.

I love you.

For those of you I consider to be little more then acquaintances or frenemies or just random people on my friend’s list or people I do not even know.

I love you too.

And for those of you with whom I may be going through misunderstanding, misfortune, misguidance, mishaps, (pick your favorite -mis word).

I love you still. (and no I’m not lookin’ deep in your eyes)

By Spacedog

The Second Time Isn’t “The Charm”

This is the Tale of My Second Arrest which is exactly the opposite of My First.

My life at that point was utter shit. I was in the grips of of hardcore Drug Addiction. The apartment I was occupying was really quite nice when I moved in, but at this point do to neglect had become a run down hellhole. I spent all my time with my with my asshole neighbor Big Douche desperately scheming and scamming, lying and Cheating, Stealing and Robbing anything for a fucking dollar.

Once we had some cash we’d get drunk as fuck and then go score some crack. Once we smoked up all the crack we went and bought Heroin. This was a endless daily cycle .

In reality I fucking hated Big Douche and would think about killing him in his sleep constantly. He truly was a fucked up fucking asshole of a human being, too fucking damaged to ever be fixed. Big Douche was the definition of a Lost Cause. I’ll digress for now since The Tale of Big Douche will be forthcoming.

So one afternoon we had managed to scrounge up enough cash for a couple of bags of Heroin, and headed out to our usual copping spot.

I’m going to pause here to take a minute to explain exactly where we scored our shit.

I/We lived in a bustling little suburbia that was a short 15 minute drive into the State’s Capital City. Now once a go the Capital City was a rich and prosperous area full of business. Then the businesses left and so did anyone who could fucking afford to. Over the years the City decayed as it hemorrhaged money through failed attempts to improve the City.

A perfect example is the Capital City spent MILLIONS to build a Sports Stadium in the City (rather than on the outskirts) and it was an instant epic failure. See because they built the Stadium IN the city there was INSUFFICIENT PARKING.

This meant Attendees had to park on the street(s) and walk to the Stadium. The only issue with that was NO ONE wanted to walk down said streets especially with their loved ones or kids. The City even tried combating the problem by stationing a Cop on every outlying corner, AND THAT DIDN’T WORK EITHER, but I digress.

We drove through the filthy trash littered streets lined with old decrepit old houses rotting away through the years.

On any given day We’d see the wandering Hookers, Homeless Begging Bums, Gang Bangers, Pimps, Junkies, Poverty, Stray Cats and Dogs, Crackheads, Drug Dealers, and other of life’s rejected throw aways lurking and loitering on the corners or walking between/among them.

On this particular day the streets were completely vacant there wasn’t a single soul in sight. We drove around several different blocks, but it was all the same the streets were all utterly empty.

I had a bad feeling. A Gut Feeling and not a good one.

The only reason that the usual degenerates wouldn’t be out pounding the streets (committing various dastardly deeds) was a simple one. Just two simple words: Police Activity.

The Police were the preverbal Lights that when flipped on sends the Rats and Roaches scrambling for cover of any kind.

I told Big Douche that we should bail and come back later because obviously something was going on that was making the Natives Restless if you will. Now Big Douche living up to his name continued to relentlessly circle block after block searching for anyone who might be a Dope Dealer. He was franticly obsessed the way Junkies do when their fiending for a fix.

At last right as Big Douche finally was giving up we drove up on a Bodega and a Large (and rather fat) Guy strode out the door. Big Douche being a Junkie immediately decides this is a person is a drug dealer and signals him as it were.

The Guy signals back. I’m pissed as pissed can get because I couldn’t believe we hadn’t bounced yet, and that Big Douche was being a complete cunt. In some bizarre passive aggressive bullshit I deliberately didn’t look at, talk to or even acknowledged The Guy.

The Guy reaches through the drivers side window and does the exchange. Instead of driving off like a good little junkie Big Douche stops to look at the couple bags of Dope, and notices (again being a good little junkie) that the Heroin looks funny. It looks fake. Fake as a motherfucker.

Big Douche leans over and calls the Guy out stating that the Guy’s dope looks beat as shit. The Guy denies it and keeps trying to brush us off. Big Douche then decides he wants his money back (Yeah thats right he wanted the Drug Dealer to refund his money for selling him fake Heroin) and opens the Driver’s door and stood between the car and the car door arguing with the Guy.

Eventually like a junkie Big Douche stops arguing and starts begging like a big ass bitch. The Guy doesn’t want to hear a single fucking word about it. Big Douche at last accepts defeat and we start to pull away from the curb.

That’s when I saw it, thats when I knew we were fucked. What I saw was the Guy raising his arm to wave in the Cops who were hiding around the way in. The next thing we knew the Cops had 3 cars pinning us in as other Cops ran up to the car yelling like a bunch a savage assholes.

We get out of the car, handcuffed, and then driven around the corner so the Cops entrapment spot wouldn’t get blown up. They transferred us into additional Cop cars and took us to the Police Station.

Once we got there Big Douche was booked, Processed, and sent to County Jail on a slew of yet undressed charges.

I was a bit luckier since I did;t have any outstanding legal issues I was booked and then released on my own recognizance. I was also given a court date the following day.

Needless to say I didn’t sleep that night. I unplugged the phone because Big Douche keep calling asking for me to help contact people to come bail him out. I could have cared less as I was worried about being locked up the very next day.

Unlike my first arrest there was no time in-between my arrest and my trial. It happened so fast I’m really not sure if I even had a court appointed Lawyer (I don’t remember talking or meeting with one at all). I went to my court date, and I remember sitting alone in the court room as the Judge worked his way down the days docket. He finally gets to me and I remember I stood up and remained standing in the same spot.

I remember this Judge some old nasty bastard who lectured me for what seemed like fucking hours about how Drug Addicts are coming into the City to score their drugs which in turn is destroying the City itself.

BULL-FUCKING-SHIT.

First there THOUSANDS of drug addicts in the Judge’s fantastical City. And the only reason Drug Addicts were coming to his City was due to the fact THATS WHERE THE FUCKING DRUG DEALERS ARE. Also as I mentioned earlier the “Fine City” the Judge spoke of was and still is a Growing, Thriving, and Worsening SHITHOLE.

Once the cranky old cocksucker of a Judge wraps up his bullshit tirade he sentenced me to 90 Days Suspended Sentence. The first time I was arrested I got 3 years Probation with a ton of added conditions (all of which I violated like a motherfucker).

This time I simply had to stay out of trouble (aka Get Arrested Again) for 90 days then I’d be off the legal hook, and the arrest would be expunged from my Police Record.

Luckily I managed not to get arrested again (in those 90 days and ever again) though I continued to spend my days living the life of a junkie which by definition requires breaking laws left and right.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober

Sexual Ambiguity By Spacedog

Subject Contradictions:
He takes his coat off as he slowly enters the room. A swift, precise glance of the inhabitants reveals copious laughter but their smiles are nylon. This is unamusing to him so he creeps out the back door.

He sees a child drop an ice cream cone and begin to cry.

He sees a parapelegic ringing her little bell and sitting on the sidewalk. He wonders where her wheelchair went?

He hears a train whistle but sees no tracks.

He steps in a big wad of horse shit and walks with a more pronounced anger.

Walking further down the narrow roadway, he spots a man and woman arm in arm. Every four steps or so the woman takes she gazes a loving glance at this man. The man gazes back at her but in the exact moment she looks away, he lustfully gazes at the ass of the man in front of them.

He walks down the street and wonders when his chance will be. When he will be the ass that they gaze upon. He’s a virgin though and waiting for marriage. Then he remembers that he is gay.

Wait! We can’t marry!

So he decides to take matters into his own hands. He turns around abruptly. He takes off his shirt. He is cold and his nipples harden, among other things. He walks back into the room.

I need something acceptable, he thinks. He turns his nose to the air. He smells alcohol, roses, and faint scents of sex. He walks towards those of course. He realizes it is darker in the corner of the room. Someone motions him into a doorway.

He enters the room.

Twenty minutes later…….

He’s no longer a virgin. He goes home.

Believe it or not there is a point to the story. It really has nothing to do with sex but sex gets people’s attention for the most part. All the things which are “forbidden” to us when we are children do. Sex, drugs, alcohol, crime, purposefully hurting others.

I have dabbled into all of the above. A lot of them quite often. Never all of them at the same time. You grow out of one bad habit and there is always another. We all have them. If we are defined by them and ruled by them therein lies the problem.

So I don’t care what people do in their own time. Each of the things I mentioned above have their risks and their rewards. As adults we know what they are. We still do them though. We have sex until we get the HIV or anally seep or walk a little funny. We do drugs until we have no more veins or no more teeth. We drink alcohol til we need a liver transplant and then we get a new liver and drink some more. We evade taxes, invade minors, and jaywalk. We hurt others and then we are hurt and then they are hurt and it goes around in one big limitless circle like Simba and his fuckin pathetic Circle of Life.

Then we go to church and we pray and put on our Easter bonnets and some of go home and celebrate Jesus and some the Cadburry bunny, while others still just go off and celebrate their birthday suits together. One big happy family.

Then we go feed the homeless. Then we hop a train to the city in the clothing we just bought at the Salvation Army and go panhandle.

After that we pick up our grandmother to go to bingo. She sits there contently. Dabber in one arm, flask in the other, bible in her purse. She sees another 70 year old man there, one with all his teeth, and promptly leaves you to dab balls by yourself. Apparently grandma knows a lot more about balls then you thought.

It never ends. It is eternal, it is disturbing but it’s not. We all do it. Extreme or miniscule. It exists.

“This is the biggest mistake I could think would save me. I wanted to give up the idea I had any control. Shake things up. To be saved by chaos. To see if I could cope, I wanted to force myself to grow again. To explode my comfort zone.” -Chuck Palahniuk

I have so been there. Ripping myself apart just so I could see myself bleed and try to fix things. That’s human.

And that’s why even though people are flawed to a repulsive extent, they deserve a chance in my book. Otherwise we would all be sitting alone by ourselves in caves, fleshlight in one hand (ummmm i guess dildos for all the bottoms and women out there) and a bottle of whiskey in the other. 🙂