You must be at least this tall to ride this ride

::Tip Jar::


View My Stats

eXTReMe Tracker

Crusader for Christ Crusader against Islam

This blog is protected from memes by Grundir the Implacable

Creative Commons License
This work
licensed under
a Creative
Commons License


email me


Pat Dollard

James Lileks
(My Idol)

Sharp Knife
(My Other Hero)


Now With Best ofs!

Haunted Soldier

Curses & Chrome

All Atwitter

Maiden Magnetic

Random Bits of Pomposity


Vox Day



Doc in the Box

Protein Wisdom

Atlas Shrugs

Twenty Major




  • Do You Ever...

  • ::Past::
  • September 2002
  • October 2002
  • November 2002
  • December 2002
  • January 2003
  • February 2003
  • March 2003
  • April 2003
  • May 2003
  • June 2003
  • July 2003
  • August 2003
  • September 2003
  • October 2003
  • November 2003
  • December 2003
  • January 2004
  • February 2004
  • March 2004
  • April 2004
  • May 2004
  • June 2004
  • July 2004
  • August 2004
  • September 2004
  • October 2004
  • November 2004
  • December 2004
  • January 2005
  • February 2005
  • March 2005
  • April 2005
  • May 2005
  • June 2005
  • July 2005
  • August 2005
  • September 2005
  • October 2005
  • November 2005
  • December 2005
  • January 2006
  • February 2006
  • March 2006
  • April 2006
  • May 2006
  • June 2006
  • July 2006
  • August 2006
  • September 2006
  • October 2006
  • November 2006
  • December 2006
  • January 2007
  • February 2007
  • March 2007
  • April 2007
  • May 2007
  • June 2007
  • July 2007
  • August 2007
  • September 2007
  • October 2007
  • November 2007
  • December 2007
  • January 2008
  • February 2008
  • March 2008
  • April 2008
  • May 2008
  • June 2008
  • July 2008
  • August 2008
  • September 2008
  • March 2009
  • June 2009
  • July 2009
  • August 2009
  • October 2009
  • November 2009
  • May 2011
  • September 2012

  • This is my Blog...There are many like it, but this one is mine...

    This page is powered by Blogger.

        Saturday, April 26, 2008

    Do You Ever...

    ...get one of those genuine 'veins in your teeth' moments? And no, I'm not talking about cock-veins, faggot.

    What do you people do? You humans? Let's say you can kill anyone you want, in a violent explosion of blood and spray and fire, and you really, really want to, well, how do you stop it? The demon?

    I have bitten my cheek until I swallow blood, and held the edge of my hand in the crack of a door, and squeezed until tears of pain squirted out of my eyes. How do you keep from slaughtering? Do you just like Nancy Reagan, say no?

    It is not in me to harm a hair on the heads of anyone I care about. I think. I hope. But that is a very short list. And I resolved not to kill my ex, even though she clearly needed it. She was part of my kid's lives, and it would have fucked them up. The only loophole is self-defense, and I pray often that she steps into that coil of rope, there on the forest floor. Goodness knows, she is both stupid and crazy enough to try it.

    Oh Dear God, a video of what I would do to her and her cohorts would make a hardened homicide detective vomit. Give me an excuse. Please.

    Fuck, I hate myself. I hate what I am. With me, there is no Dark Side. Just a deep, empty well, that echoes with screams, and the fires of Hell glitter down there, so deeply that they do not disturb the black ink that swirls around the inside. Drama? You fucking wish. The last sound on this earth you will hear is the crunch of your larynx, which I will have crushed, quite by accident. I'll be (kinda) sorry, you'll be (kinda) dead.

    And I can't stop it. Johnny stepped on the top of my foot the other night, and the back of my fist went into his right kidney before I could stop it, and sure, I was able to pull it (the punch, not his kidney) but still, he arched in a bow of agony, and I am still apologizing for it. And he is still forgiving me.

    The wife spars with me, and watches my eyes, even though I have tried to train that out of her. Watch the hands, and all movement comes from the spine. She watches my eyes, to see if they change. If they go dark, and 'away'. When that happens, she jumps back, and waves her arms, and shouts to get my attention.

    And I didn't feel a thing.

    I really hate myself.

    Please don't confuse this with your standard Emo self-hatred, a plea for help, or anything more than a dog who has just crawled under the porch to die, because he senses it is imminent.

    And do not ever confuse me with someone who gives a shit. Because I am not alone. And one day you will, I guarantee you, run across someone who's not as well adjusted and well behaved as I am. Rue that day.

    My kind slaughters its way through your kind like a wolf kills a flock of chickens. Both figuratively, and literally. I have often wondered if we are another genus of Homo Erectus. I know the wife is coming back to the house when she is six blocks away. When she thinks about calling me, I call her. I see in the dark. Have a nose as sensitive as a dog's. Heal in hours from cuts. Though that particular talent has slown down as I have abused my liver beyond all bounds of human propriety.

    Do we stand as sentinels against the Darkness? Were we made 'special', to stand cold and strong, and vicious, against the encroachment of the Night? I have no idea. And a peculiar aspect of my condition is that I do not possess an ego, the pride, which caused the Lightbearer to Fall, and take so many with him. Do we straddle both Darkness, and Light, and are we called to Great Deeds?

    Fuck, I pray God I am not. I am old, and tired.

    And vicious.