Charisma?

I just passed the forty-hour mark. No sleep. Or if I have slept, I don't recall it. I think I might have caught a nap somewhere in betwixt all the movement and thought-waves.

I'm exhausted, finally. I hope, at least.

'Bill, do you realize the charisma you carry with you?'

That was his question to me. I looked at him, barely realizing someone was speaking to me at that point, and gave him the same answer I give everyone.

'Of course.'

How could I not be aware of it, when I abuse it so? I use whatever charisma it is that I have to my advantage, every step of the way. It's why I have my little 'fan clubs', as some are known to call them. I've been told it's in my words; that it's in my body language; that it's in my overall attitude. In all honesty, it's probably none of that. It's just...me. I don't think about how my words or actions are going to affect someone else; hell, most of the time, I don't even care how they affect someone else. I say what I say and do what I do because it's what I feel like saying or what I feel like doing. Other peoples reactions are not going to influence my actions. For every action, there is not always an equal yet opposite reaction. More often than not, there's a smart-assed, off-the-wall or otherwise Bill-esque reaction that has nothing to do with the first party's initial action and/or response.

If I held myself back from acting without thinking, I would lose that oh-so-elusive 'charisma'. That's what really draws people to me: my ability to completely ignore everyone else's opinion and just go my own way.

Ok, enough ego-masturbation, I'm going to bed.



Maybe.

Cue emoxcore moment.

This nagging, empty feeling just won't go away. Now I'm just in a state of apathy. People are telling me things, showing me things; I act interested, but in reality I don't care, at all. Just leave me alone and let me play my video games.

That's really all I want to do. I don't want to sit at the computer for much time anymore. I don't really want to go out. I don't particularly want people to come over (though it is nice to have some company, even if I do have to act a little bit). I just want to be left alone, in my room, in the dark, playing video games.

Maybe I just need some 'me' time? I don't know. I just want this crap to clear up. It's putting a definite damper on my activities. Everything I do feels half-hearted and forced. I wasn't like this two weeks ago. But it seems to be slowly bogging me down.

I want to quit my job, but I know I can't, not without another one lined up. I need the money. But my luck with jobs continues: putting in applications, making calls to connections..and getting nothing.

Empty empty empty.


You're so cute when you're slurring your speech.

Heard it through the grapevine.

Lately I've been so..malcontent. Not oh-god-the-sorrow-I-feel-blackens-my-heart-I-am-so-misunderstood gothic malcontent, simply..restless. Something is amiss in my simple little world. Maybe it's because I feel the need to get back into school, but I'm nervous about really trying to pursue anything beyong writing. Maybe it's the fact that I hate my job and wish I had a way out, but would feel guilty quitting when I just got promoted. Or maybe it's just the dwindling amount of spontanaeity in my life.

Something.

Whenever I'm just sitting around, not really doing anything..I feel it. This bitter, biting cold inside me. Telling me that I need to make some sort of a change. I just wish I could figure out what that change is so I could move beyond it and continue on in being myself.

My patience wears thin for life in general. Everything is just so..dull. I want to go out and do something crazy, something outlandish. But there's so many things restraining me, and I can't just jump out the window and say fuck it. It isn't if only the simplicity matched the appeal.

Maybe I just need to move out. Hopefully Eazy, Natrix and I will be able to find someplace to live together for a reasonable price. I think getting out of my parents environment and into one that suits me a little better would be a big step in the right direction, whichever one that is.


Divining rods to the ground in search of the fluid for change.

Make like a tree and get outta' here.

I wish my words would flow as easily onto paper (e-paper..whatever.) as they do when they're thoughts. No matter how much I keep a train of thought going in my head until I have a chance to write it down, when it comes time to do it, the words just..evaporate. Fly away. Gone.

Sometimes I like to just lie on my bed and listen to music. At those times, it doesn't matter what comes on; it all sounds beautiful. It all sounds...right. Every chord, every cymbal crash, every note and every lyric all just seem perfect for the moment. Sometimes I hope I can duplicate that experience in the rest of my life. Maybe that's why I carry music with me everywhere.

People who come over often complain about the lack of a pattern in the music that I listen to, because I run all of my music on shuffle 90% of the time, which leads to quite an eclectic playlist. I do that because it fits my environtment: ever-changing and sporadic, always unsure of whats going to occur next. And every once in awhile, the absolute perfect song comes on for the moment; the music and melody (or lack there of) fit the mood, the lyrics coencide well with conversation, and it all adds perfectly to the ambience.

That's what I really want, I think: perfected ambience. And I find it in pure chaos based on algorithms. My only solace ever seems to be in never knowing what's going to happen next. Not because I'm depressed and hope that, through chaos, things are going to become better, but because I hate having a perfect order to everything...having everything laid out, knowing exactly what to expect.

Maybe some day, my life will be a nonstop series of completely random moments. And maybe, just maybe...

Each song will add to ambience.

Ketchup Mess.

They're so obsessed with melody and harmony. I wish they could see the beauty in dischord and chaos.

We're sitting at the house, and they keep working on this melodic progression. Sure, it sounds pretty, but it's so...boring. There's no fun in that. Not for me.

I fear this next band is going to be more of the same..people saying they understand my concept, yet when it comes down to it, they want to make more of the same. So easy to listen to; pleasantries for the ears. Nothing offensive or even slightly off note. Everything in its place, sounding wonderful.

Fuck that. I want chaos, I want a musical war. I want soudns to come out of the amplifiers that make people cringe, things people don't want to hear, things that make everyone wish they could escape the feedback and the static.

I want to make music...nay..NOISE...that is the antithesis of everything they love to make. I just wish they could understand the beauty in dischord and chaos.

Hiss.

I want to make static. Droning, hissing, breathing static. Low-end frequencies that make your heart tremble and your brain tighten up in a fit. Pulsating, dischordant, chaotic cacophonies that alternately make you wish it would stop and make you wish it would never end. Never knowing where the flow will take you; if there even is a flow, or if its all just a haphazard aural disaster. Shocked over both the simplicities and the intricacies of every second of sound. An assault on everything deemed 'music'.

I want my noise to breathe fire.



I think I like it here because the likelyhood of anyone I know ever running across this little piece of the Interweb is incredibly unlikely, and I can just write without fear of judgement or contradiction.

Oh, the blissful sounds of complete and utter chaos. Soon you will be mine. And I shall rue all of existence with you in my hands.

What would Jesus NOT do?

I bought some diamons the other day. For my girlfriend. One year anniversary, blah blah, no one cares. It amazes me how much easier it is to deal with jewelers when you actually know what you want to buy. I tried to go into a couple different places around Christmastime, and all of my interactions went vaguely along these lines:

Jeweler: FRESH MEAT! -unholy howl from beyond-
Me: Uhm..yeah, how much does this cost?
Jeweler: Oh, that's a beautiful piece, it's all natural, non-altered semi-precious gemstone. This is a piece that she will cherish for a lifetime. So beautiful, isn't it?
Me: Yeah, but how much?
Jeweler: Oh, only $599.99.
Me: Thanks for your help, but I'm just looking right now.
Jeweler: NO OH GOD PLEASE COME BACK I NEED THIS COMISSION TO FEED MY CHILDREN.

..Yeah. Instead, with knowing what I wanted, it was in and out in less than fifteen minutes. From now on, I'm figuring out what the hell I want ahead of time.

I hate shopping anyways. If I had a credit card I could use on a regular basis and enough money, I'd just do all my shopping from home. It's not that I hate the ACT of shopping..it's more the trouble involved with the act. Wading through oceans of people, Dealing with store clerks who either don't care you exist or will not leave you alone no matter how many thousands of dollars you throw down in their store. Oh, and let's not forget the stupid teeny-bopper wannabe-goth mallrat kids. What happened to Kevin Smith's Mallrats? Quirky, independent, free-thinking kids, instead of smarmy goth-kids who have nothing better to do but hang out at the arcade talking about how much the cops suck.

Wait, I changed my mind. I don't hate shopping. I hate the mall.

Won't you have a cup of tea?

Sometimes, my body will be completely exhausted, but my mind isn't quite ready to go to bed. Right now is one of those times.

I turn off the lights, lay down, close my eyes. As is usual on these nights, I start getting this image in my head.

My tongue, swelling. Larger and larger and larger. Not to the point of suffocation, but to a grotesque proportion. And I can feel it, in my mouth. I'll touch my tongue, and it feels normal, but in my mind's eye, it's still a swollen, festering mass.

Damn, I hate having an overactive imagination.


I created this blog pretty much on the fly, while laying in bed, trying to get my imagined swelling to go down. I've always been told that my writing is very enjoyable to read, and I figured this would be a better place to test this theory than on DeadJournal or MySpace, where I usually reside.

Hello, Blogosphere, my name's Bill. Wanna be friends?