I’ll show up on your doorstep
With a bottle of wine

“I’m sorry”, I’ll say
Or atleast, try to say

“You’re drunk”, you’d say
And slam the door shut.

But I won’t be drunk
No it won’t be liquor

And I’d chuckle as I hit my head on the floor.

Why do people feel the need to tweet their lives to the miniscule?

I’d rather have thoughts
No matter how
Small
I’d rather have ideas
No
Matter how
Absurd
I’d rather have information
No matter 
how old

What you do doesn’t matter
What you make out of it does
 
Try that.

And no, we’re not entertained.

It’s a matter of this, a matter of that
You need none of them wise ass
A little bit loose, a little bit tight
It all depends on the moments ride
It gets a little bit scary, a little bit sad
You know better than thinking it’s just another drag
Here’s to your brave little soul,
Here’s to wherever the next wind blows—

#bestofluckthelandofdownunder

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qeFPPSzXgqQ&feature=youtube_gdata_player

A time you thought about ending your own life.

I wanted to just push the goddamn button— I didn’t give room for restart. I was miserable and all my energies were put into keeping it at that. I avoided all contacts with people, i refused all invites to hang. My days consisted of driving up south and back; north and back— that is if I’m not zombied-out in school or junked up in bed.

The line, “too awake to fall asleep, too sleepy to be awake” summed me up. I was never where I stood.

Then one day, I decided to sleep with a random guy. (Fuck me back to life, called Carrie Bradshaw.) The next day, I swallowed a handful of pills. The day after that, I was locked up in a psychiatric ward for detox. So much for a love story.

I knew better than thinking diazepam’s could break whatever chain was bounding me, but I had nothing to lose, all I did was hope maybe. I was tired, restless, bored and forlorn.

All I have now are fragments of that blurry past. Silly, absurd, pointless— Perhaps necessary. I like thinking it was the universe putting a clear, heavy, distinct line between my teenage years and adulthood. The only way the world sought to kick off my benighted self.

Glad for getting through, and hopeful everyone else thrown into a gonzo comes out alright if not a better man than they had been.

No going loco for good mofo’s.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J0ZRvxDrOxo

Views on religion.

Reason tells me to put religion alongside science, politics and philosophy— nothing more than a system of thought— to put a structure to the society, to unravel the many questions of man.

However, that is too callous a stand for me (yes and despite myself).

It could be the upbringing, could be the generation itself, could be a life-lesson, could even be all for the littlest of what I know— but my view of religion (or for some, the absence of) is quite simple: long as you get along fine with yourself and everyone else, then you are life worthy.

After all, religion is grounded on one fact and one fact alone, and that is, we all reach the highest potentiality of ourselves, with others… Peace and love, simply put.

Views on drugs and alcohol.

Goodlord knows how I’ve seen enough of drugs and alcohol abused and mis-used altogether.

While I have no plans of giving up drinking (not that I drink one too many), smoking and while I think potheads are the best people to talk to, coke-heads too amusing, I know within me how much trouble it causes— to individuals and society alike.

This write isn’t going anywhere.

Let me quote a quote I’ve stumbled upon twitter (pssh), “I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone, but they’ve always worked for me.”

zi ende. #imaybedrunk

Where you’d like to be ten years from now.

I’d love to work at an establish firm as a Human Resource what-have-you.

Slaver my ass off awhile, get back to school, head on to a fulfilling career— what can I say, I’ve got my eyes on every immigrants dream.

You current relationship.

Single.

Minus the occasional heating of what’s down there, (that of which I am forced, obliged and to some extent burdened to keep sane myself) I don’t think there’s much to say about not having a man to be with.

No, I do not dream of being held, cuddled and wooed.  That for me comes and goes and while in between, I let myself be mine.

Chips, anyone?