and she said.. "how you interpret the dream is probably more important than the dream itself"

You never know when you'll click the wrong link and end up looking at something like this..

And let me tell you.. the last thing I need to see on a Monday morning after the superbowl and a marathon night of Halo deathmatching with only 3 hours of sleep is Anti's chesthair.

HUuyuack

But that's okay. I'll live. I'll live cause it's the easier, lazier, and generally more complacent way to go about things: just livin. I could, if I wanted, go off and kill myself or get a new job or fuck some HAAT (that's hot with an emphasis on hot) women but you know.. it's easier just to live. Look at some chest hair. Cringe. Swallow the vomit down with a mouth full of coffee.. move along.

The problem with life is that it's work. You have to get out of bed and move around. You have to work - manual labour, mind you - to put food on the table. I'm not talking about going to work and earning a paycheck, I'm talking about getting food out of the fridge. Real Work. Fuck. And they say we have it good here in America. They don't know shit. Last night I almost snapped a tendon mixing the orange powder into my mac and cheese - I went thick with not much milk - but jeessus, I ain't getting any worker's comp for that injury. Fuckin' hell.

The dude, now he got it right. If I could live like the dude - mentally stomach it - I think I'd be right there with him. Bowl a few strings. Drink a few caucasians.. fuckin' a man, call it good. Done. I just can't do it cause the mind is like a fucking roller coaster that won't stop. It's the ride that you can't get off.

Fuckin A, man.

I hate myself. I hate myself for the person I am - the inabilities, the fear, the choking inacation. I hate myself for the spot decisions. The mistakes. The wrong choices. I hate between a rock and a hard place with the cross hairs of a catch-22 pointed squarely at my forehead.

But I don't feel particularly special. I don't feel like I'm worse off than anyone else. I feel like everyone hates themselves, in some way or another. It's what makes us try harder.

When you start talking to your friends it's amazing how many people you'll learn jerk off at work. In their office. In the storage closet. In the bathroom. Humans have sex on the brain like fly on shit and it's amazing we're so confused about it.. seems pretty cut and dry to me.

How long before laws against large families in the United States?

How long before the one-child rule?

It wouldn't surprise me to race into the future and see bethrothels coming back. It wouldn't surprise me if we went back to arranged marriages.

My good friend insists the rain forests will be gone in 50 years. Burned to the ground. Harvested. Cleared. Gone. I beg to differ. We're both die-hard environmentalists.. we just come at it from opposite angles.

We are a destructive race, no doubt. But we're selfish, too. The rain forests will still be around in 50 years. The rain forests will be around, the ocean will be around.. The temperate forests will be around. Maybe not all of them. Maybe not most of them.. but at some point, somewhere, it will click.

Rivers full of the blood of industry able to peel paint off houses do not clean themselves up in 20 years without effort on someone's part.

I guess I'm saying I'ma gonna bet on the intelligentia. I guess I'm gambling on the good - as cynical as they might tell me I am.

You'd never guess it to look at me on a day to day basis but I'm a raging romantic.

Like a raging alcoholic I am not always able to admit it - can't always see the forest for the trees - maybe I need to visit a clinic.

It'd be nice if they had clinics for that sort of thing.

Maybe I'm crazy but rehab clinics seem as self-indulgant as the addiction they are supposed to cure. help? riiighhtt.

kinda like this blog.

rigggggghhhht.

right?