|
|
|
kunta
|
Oct 20, 2007 1:51 am
717 Views
|
i'm a damaged human
its my posse
damagedhumanposse
sometimes i smack myself, its so easy
|
|
|
1
comment
|
|
|
benny blanco
|
Oct 20, 2007 1:47 am
733 Views
|
true story
i live in the downtown district.... its sort snarky (see previous post).
i was the star witness when they called the cops because someone didn't want to wait for pizza.
sick.
i'm now an official snitch, i have a police 'memory' of my location. i told the cars where to go and what to do. in the name of pizza.
and no one even asked if i was gay.
just thought i'd share.
|
|
|
1
comment
|
|
|
snarky
|
Oct 19, 2007 4:29 am
783 Views
|
i wish more people had read my last post. a lot did actually. that was originally written at 12:30 pm while i was waiting for a friend to wake up and come over to start a day of aimless wandering and eventual drinking. it was written intentionally to illicit a reaction, and at its original source it did. if i was able to keep in the links that were associated with certain passages it could have made a little more sense. but i can't do that here.
those that did read it and commented are a far cry from those that it was directed at.
i use stereotypes and i'm not proud, but i do accept my faults.
i wish that there weren't stereotypes in any community, least of all ours. but its a prevalent practice for gay boys to fall into a category. we throw around words not realizing that we hold a molotov cocktail of messy.
bear, otter, twink, hunk, jock, daddy, cub, bitch, butch, dyke, queen, cowboy, bottom, top.
he. she.
i remember in a middle school civics class that there were two theories of a culturally mixed society, that of the salad bowl and that of the melting pot. the salad coexisted, but didn't adhere much to each other with a separate but equal stance. the melting pot had a remembrance of heritage but an unspoken equality that ignored it. we are a long way from the melting pot.
so i look forward to halloween. strange transition you may say.
i call halloween gay christmas. think about it. what other day can you celebrate creativity and diversity without stigma or distinction? at public gatherings of people of different races, creeds, colors, genders, and cultural bias get together and forget themselves behind masks and make up and imagination.
that is when we become the melting pot. only when we are truly outside ourselves can we truly accept each other.
another one from my outside voice....
snark.... like kunta only sweeter.
|
|
|
1
comment
|
|
|
culturalism
|
Oct 2, 2007 2:42 am
852 Views
|
some people might call me a racist. in certain situations i would say yes, that i agree. i have along with every person that may read or stumble upon this post been guilty of profiling someone based upon their apparent race. but then again i also think that people shouldn't run around like stereotypical caricatures of themselves and then wonder why everyone assumes that they hold certain beliefs or have a certain level of intelligence.
maybe the word racist for me is wrong. i don't truly believe that all people of a certain race are the same in all aspects. no i'm a culturist. yes i just sorta made that word up. here's how it works.
i use the term silly faggot. usually to me this describes that self absorbed bag of tricks you see at the local 'trendy gay bar' on a saturday night with his pink skin tight 'personal trainer' t shirt he got at hollifitchgapnavy and his top faded designer jeans that for some reason look like someone vomited bleach on the thighs or whatever. his hair is frosted at the tips and somewhere between emo and hipster, unless he's thinning a little then its the 'random sports team' hat or something made by a washed up pop star like travis barker to cover that fatal flaw. you know the one. he's a member of hrc but thinks all straight people should be locked up. once a year on some sunday in june he'll dance around and tell everyone to love each other and scream tolerance but won't remember it for the rest of the year because he was on extasy that day, and he'll actually use that as an excuse. self absorbed, over confident, hypocritical little shits is what these boys are. silly faggots. now you see, i think everyone that dresses in the above described way acts in the ways mentioned. and, you see, for the most part i'm right.
let me assure you that i'm not one of those self hating fags who still harbors guilt about my fabulous cock sucking skills. i do not fit in that mold. i pride myself on trying a few on, but never getting stuck in one. but that very large portion of the gay community makes me want to hang out with the fat ladies that sing god hates fags to the tune of the carpenters
that said, i hate based on a cultural bias. and sure i may throw around a few racial slurs and immensely enjoy them in some cases, i don't lump everyone into the same group. sure my words may be hurtful to an oversensitive self absorbed patsy, but damn i think i'm funny. i enjoy myself and i enjoy life. i enjoy the people that i choose to share my life with regardless of their race, because i choose them based on their own cultural decisions and my appreciation of them.
culturism - lumping a group of people under a derogatory term that may cause them to cry, because they know its true.
***cpd from my own personal outside source
|
|
|
2
Comments
|
|
|
long time no anything
|
Oct 1, 2007 1:07 am
799 Views
|
i have another blog that i post on frequently. i will say that out loud and proud and smugly finger anyone....
its a community blog with my friends and we actually have been getting hits which is cool. i won't advertise on here, and believe me i've tried.
since the last time i posted i had a boyfriend... had a potential boyfriend.... and boys that want to make me their boyfriend. and i think as i write this, isn't that the real point of this site? to find that or to expand on the idea of domestication? or maybe to explore the options thereof?
i personally have never met anyone from this site. and i don't have any objections to meeting someone in the future. but i'm getting old. since my last post i turned 30. i pushed a friend into the afterlife. i found out at zero ground (tori amos reference)
i don't know what i'm writing about..... maybe i'm lonely
maybe i'm stupid....
maybe i just need to go to bed....
|
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
|
us vs. they,we,i,he,them
|
May 2, 2007 2:30 am
1218 Views
|
i got in a conversation tonight with friends about the good ole days. you all know what i mean. the times between the break ups and the self hatred, those times outside of the familial conflicts and the unanswered phone calls. its one of those things that happens with friends when friends decide to talk about us. not we or i or he or they, but us.
i want to scream out to all of my friends: i miss talking about us.
each of us, as individuals, spend too much time focusing on the other people that affect our lives, those that aren't there to tell their stories or to live it again with us, those that have run away and left us wanting, or those that we envy and watch from the corners of every eye. conversely we talk about how we superimpose ourselves into those situations, how the fabled 'i' would react, or what 'i' would have done. the singular, the third person, causes so much pain and confusion. we, they, i are all wishes, things outside of ourselves, outside of us, that embody negativity, dark dreams of an even darker need for acceptance and basically comfort.
'i' is alone. (only time in grammatical history that that is a valid sentence.) you project your observations on those around you, and more often than not your personal experience is not as influential in repetition as it seemed in memory.
'he' is too objective. tainted by perception he becomes a rose tinted view of some one else's time and some one else's action.
'we' hardly ever includes the target of the conversation. we is a egoistic and assumptive notion, as if you can speak for the ones that are left behind, the ones not there. its also a third person 'i', and usually more lonely.
'they/them' is the basis of gossip. they implies hatred, envy, contempt.
i was happy tonight talking about us. events shared by the people around you, emotions felt at the same time and place, a moment relived by those that lived it, smiling or sad, a union of remembrance.
us is all that matters, here now and the past that is shared and tempered by the future that is hoped for.
|
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
|
heavy
|
Apr 11, 2007 11:28 pm
1316 Views
|
i try to complicate my life. in a way i think we all do.
tonight i met a guy, who had in turn met a guy last night, who in turn had met a guy last thursday, who had met the guy i met tonight.
if we get married i'll always remenmber his first words:
you don't bag 2 gallons of milk in the same bag shitbag.
he would have had me at hello.
i spent the afternoon and the evening trying not to stare. after all, you try not to steal your friends overnight slumber party pals.
(warning, overly convoluted but necessary explanation alert)
a friend had met this guy last night and brought him home from the bar, and then promptly passed out. well, when i arrived today, said overnighter was still there, wondering how in the hell he would get home, how he was going to deal with this other new stranger he was now being introduced to. so i guess the milk comment was a little defensive. see, my friend had left this wonderfully cute and dimly charming sort of guy alone while he slept the day away in that ancient hangover ritual, you know the one that your head chants over and over why? why? why?, and so me and my other friend, drunk boys roommate, were tricksitters until he felt like being alive.
well sometime between the rerun of reba, and the making of all to gross egg salad sandwiches from week old easter eggs, i fell for him, and i think he knows it.
i started to post something about this on one of my other 2 blogs that are floating in the ether. and then i thought about how both of those would be tagged by the 200 queers here that know me, and then the rumors would start. so i posted here, on this place, away from where all the ma****nt members know my name.
the thing that really just gets me...
he's 22
fucking 22!
i feel like a priest and its time for altar boy tryouts. dirty, but smiling.
oh well.
i guess i just have a soft spot for 22 year old firefighters.
i think he likes me back.
oh god i hope so.
|
|
|
2
Comments
|
|
|
i had another title for this blog
|
Mar 30, 2007 4:01 am
1214 Views
|
like it says, i had another title for this blog, but it would either get me waaaaaaay too much attention or less than i already get. but its fitting, you'll see.
the past few weeks have been a whirlwind of preparation. one of my best friends was coming to town, bringing a posse (my new favorite word) of strangers that had heard of me only by myth and legend. in addition, the search for a new homestead, somewhere to hang my psycho cape, had been in the forefront. but when the day came, i was ready.
3pm last thursday i got the 'lets meet at the bar' bat signal, and me and my allies rushed in, eager to meet the out of town innocents. and it all went downhill from there.
to make a long story short, a weekend of fun and debauchery turned into a balance between babysitting 45 year old men, playing limo driver, and channeling dear abbey, all the while trying to quell my own homicidal tendencies.
i've thought a lot about karma in the past few days, and karma has nothing but a fucking twisted sense of humor.
i became so stressed out i lost my voice. it wasn't alcohol or cigarettes or any other body damaging vices; those i kept in check. just at one point, i couldn't speak. maybe it was psychosomatic, and it was my higher self knowing that the foul thoughts that were circling my head should never be spoken like the infinite names of cthulu. or conversely, maybe i knew i had said enough, damning most with half sermons even hypocrites like ted haggard would be proud of.
(for example, at one point i announced that if they had all come hundreds of miles to embarrass themselves and everyone around them then they should all go to their hotel rooms now satisfied with a big fat mission accomplished, and if they needed any other motivation my foot in their ass was a handy option.)
now, alone for the first time discounting sleep in 2 weeks, i get electronic pleas for forgiveness. thanks for your hospitality....sorry you can't go to that bar for a few weeks... i meant i love you like a brother... i'm sure he'll speak to you in a couple weeks... just tell them i did it... i'll make it up to you....
am i bitter and selfish if i don't forgive? am i wrong to want to punish those that have wronged?
i know it sounds like gay drama, but i'm honestly not prone to that in real life, i just play a disgruntled fag on tv. i shouldn't care about my reputation, my social standing, but i do. and when i'm associated with a herd of drunk guys who don't realize that denver really is a mile high and unless you live here you should really watch your intake, or have my connections look at me sideways because i associate with the type that can't walk around the bar without exaggerating their inebriation, is that reason enough to condemn and chastise because it inconvenienced me?
i was asked tonight at the bar if they were gone. when i said yes, the answer was 'thank god'. a friend told me that even though i try to make my reasons selfish, that really i don't want my friends to look bad. the words: as much as you want to be blanche you are so much more dorothy. and if you can't smile when a guy who seems straighter than ron jeremy and hugh heffner alone on ladies night says something like that then you have no soul.
the title of this was going to be:
i bet jesus never had to pull splinters out of his ass
from now on i want to be more like john the baptist, drown first and ask questions later....
|
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
|
strike a violent pose
|
Mar 14, 2007 3:04 am
1274 Views
|
i've just gotten to be old enough to where the whole 'emo' scene sends me either into fits of giggles or a retrospective agony of 'is this what i have become'. i don't deny that if i was 18 today that i would probably fall under the emo shadow, just as i could have been catagorized as goth during my often misspent youth.
a band that i was in back then sounds eerily similar to my chemical romance or even panic! at the disco. our 'goth' peers chided our music as too melodic and almost pop-ish, and considering the pop angst spewed by forgettables like collective soul and semisonic, not to mention the verve pipe, wanderlust and many others, i can understand their source. back then we wanted grit, some progressive echo of mother love bone or bad brains that didn't sound like eddie vedder. we wanted more than the twisted 80's backbeat of 808 state or bigod 20, but the soul of tori amos or jonatha brooke. we longed for anthems screamed out by robert plant. we ached for the permanance of even staples like america. we wanted something more than the butt rock staples of the hair band metal revolution, the corporate rock, the whitewashed r and b that had colored our adolescence.
emo was right there, even then. bands like belle and sebastian, pavement, dinosaur jr., all had an emo label, see your back issues of rolling stone. emo to me was the punk rock guy that could talk politics, the one that even your mom said he wasn't that bad if he would just stop singing in that band.
myself, a classically trained musician who used to be able to play at least 7 instruments, incorporated this into our music. thoughtful lyrics, a study of chord progression, dissonance through harmony, all things that i brought to the table. frozen, an albeit horrible song about new years day and those i didn't kiss, was one of our staples. ironic and self depricating, it reminds me of every song that i hear on pop radio today labled emo. i thought it was crap.
(side note: after one of our first shows our bass player broke up with his high school aged girl, i went as her gay date to the prom, and broke up the band, yes shelly was this yoko, plus he had his own homo issues to deal with.)
going back to topic, i think the emo of today is just another fancy way to label the sorta cool weird kid of ages past. but now we relive the horror of the 80's, where now commercials use fall out boy as a backdrop just as the straights adopted relax as a subtle sexual innuendo instead of seeing the real meaning. emo is the new wave of this millenial decade, materialized into hairstyles and fashion faux pas (plural). and just as happened in the 80's, the gay movement that made the music popular has become chastised and deemed inconsequential.
the horrible part of it all is, if my hairline weren't receding and my body failing in places it didn't used to, i would still have my hair in my eyes and my eyeliner in my pocket wondering when the next hawthorne heights show is.
(side note II: i despise hawthorne heights, just used as a point of reference)
but i guess that is why i still hang on to my tori amos, my bjork; i'm listening to skunk anansie right now. i've learned not to let music define my own personal genre, my personality. i'm beyond punk, goth, pop, grunge, electronic, rave, emo, hardcore, whatever else you want to call it. in music, as in life, i just get into what sounds good.
i guess, to sum up, i don't understand how we label our music anymore. but i never have understood labels.
but i still laugh at a herd of emos... go figure
(side note III: when i write these, its all at one sitting with usually no feedback, so if its a ramble, see lady sovereign, love me or hate me).
|
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
To link to this blog (angrypsycho77) use [blog angrypsycho77] in your messages.
|
|
|
| Sun |
Mon |
Tue |
Wed |
Thu |
Fri |
Sat |
| |
11
|
21
|
3
|
4
|
5
|
6
|
7
|
8
|
9
|
10
|
11
|
12
|
13
|
14
|
15
|
16
|
17
|
18
|
191
|
203
|
21
|
22
|
23
|
24
|
25
|
26
|
27
|
28
|
29
|
30
|
31
|
|
|
|
|
