Thursday, October 03, 2002

I hate the internet.

This thing is gonna be the life and death of me, I can just tell. Right now, it is my lifeblood. And I hate its guts. With the internet, I have no reason to leave my apartment except to go to class. Even then, more and more classes are online, and the ones that aren't post pertinent information online anyways. This is my sole form of communication right here folks. It's sad, isn't it? I got an $87 phone bill the other day, and I don't see any reason for having it anymore. No one calls me, except for maybe my mom. I can communicate with all my friends and family online...for free. It's possible to order pizza online now. If Rosa's in Whitewater goes digital, I'm never using my phone again.

The only way I talk to girls is online. Hell, the only way I meet girls is online. That's really bad because supposedly, one of my few charms is my personality, and my online persona and my real-life persona are totally different. I wonder which one people fall in love with first...

What's more disillusioning is that now the Internet is used by damn near everyone, giving the ability to the lowest common denominator to come online and berate me. People in chat rooms are no longer intelligent (were they ever?) and witty. They're just as superficial as in real life. I hate it.

I said before that I don't really do anything but sit in this chair and surf the web and write these rambling posts to you. I'm not exaggerating one bit. I'm supposed to be a goddamn writer and this is the best I can do. Why? Because I haven't experienced anything worth writing about in a long, long time. And you guessed why I haven't, too, I bet. Because I sit behind this screen, with a blank stare on my face. The whole network went down last night, and I didn't do a thing about it. In fact, I still sat in this chair waiting for it to come back up. I didn't go catch a good movie, or read a book to stimulate my mind. I didn't write. I remained passive and watched the Bangbus.

This is really getting to me because the Internet was my cure-all for quite a long time. Now it's another thing that I'm disinterested in... and like Chris Carabba (Dashboard Confessional) says in one of his songs... "I never really mastered disinterest." I don't know where to go from here.

Tuesday, October 01, 2002

My friend the douche bag.

I just wanted to use that as a title. He is a douche bag, but I don't have anything remotely relevant to say about him now. Besides that I hate him. Anyways... I ahve no idea where this came from:


This is the raging alcoholic speaking. I drink alone, like George Thorogood on a really lonely night. Seven or eight beers and 2 hours later I'm seeing double and laying on the ground. I watch porn, and see two money shots. It would be cool except I can't really tell if the girl is cute anymore. But it's porn, so she must be. I hope she is.

I close the bars at 2am, and if I'm really lucky I get up at 6am to open the same bars. The barflies all know me by name, like at George Webb's. It makes me feel good, feel justified. There's no reason to drink, really. I've never gotten laid solely because of the alcohol. I've never really accomplished anythong because of it. I know, that's not the point. The point is to feel good, and there's plenty of that going on. It also helps to forget, for those 3 or 4 or 5 hours that your life really sucks, and on those nights I can go home happy... and wake up angry and worthless. On the real bad nights, I sit in my room and sulk. I listen to the sad-bastard music that only shy 16 year old boys should listen to. Maybe I am a 16 year old boy trapped inside. Or maybe I just want to be 16 again. Things were so great at 16, weren't they?

My life is a cycle that I can never escape. I am a raging alcoholic. Care to share a drink with me?