Vulgar Language, Hateful Posts, Drugs, Drinking Problems, Misogynistic Comments, Boot Fetishes & More:
Sanjay Dadlani's Actual Posts From His Online Blogs:
http://gaurasundara.blogspot.com/2005/09/birthday-blues.html: BIRTHDAY BLUES: September 16th 2005: I wanted to talk about how worried I am about depression. Prolonged depression can kill according to the latest scientific studies. It has a stressful effect on the heart and can probably be an indirect cause of heart disease, as I read on BBC health some time ago. So um, I've been feeling like this for around 3 months now and this has GOT to stop or I'll end up freaking out on the street or something.
It's almost like my entire soul seems to be filled with poison. I don't know how else to describe it. I either feel just very vacant or empty, and at other times I just feel consumed by bitterness, anger and hatred. Consumed by poison.
It's like when I close my eyes, I can actually feel the loneliness surrounding me, choking and suffocating me. Or at least my senses seem to sink within myself and become dull. A pessimistic attitude tints my vision and I cannot seem to understand other people's emotions except mine. Yes, I may laugh at comedies but usually only at the sarcastic jokes, which seem to be an extension of the frustration and bitterness in my soul. It's like I am just aimless these days, going along no particular direction.
It is something that I had perhaps get used to. It's probably likely that I will end up a bitter twisted old man and I should look forward to that and embrace it. It's looking unreasonable to expect anything else."
http://killuminati.blogspot.com/: BIRTHDAY BLUES: September 16th 2005: Anyway f*ck 'em all. I wanted to talk about how worried I am about depression. Prolonged depression can kill according to the latest scientific studies. It has a stressful effect on the heart and can probably be an indirect cause of heart disease, as I read on BBC health some time ago. So um, I've been feeling like this for around 3 months now ever since I came back from Sri Lanka. This has GOT to stop or I'll end up freaking out on the street or something. I'm really cared of that, freaking out randomly.
It's almost like my entire soul seems to be filled with poison. I don't know how else to describe it. I either feel just very vacant or empty, and at other times I just feel consumed by bitterness, anger and hatred. Ever since SHE left, anyway. Consumed by poison.
It's like when I close my eyes, I can actually feel the loneliness surrounding me, choking and suffocating me. Or at least my senses seem to sink within myself and become dull. A pessimistic attitude tints my vision and I cannot seem to understand other people's emotions except mine. Yes, I may laugh at comedies but usually only at the sarcastic jokes, which seem to be an extension of the frustration and bitterness in my soul.
I need to stop f*cking drinking also. I mean it's not like I ever had a big problem or anything, I used to have a social or casual beer like a couple of times a month, if that. Now moving onto the hard stuff almost every night just cannot be good either for my general health or tolerance level. It seems that I can no longer get what I want, and I have difficulty trying to figure what it is that I want also. It's like I am just aimless these days, going along no particular direction.
Why, like some f*cking innocent, do I have to go through this and find out the hard way how everyone in this sh*tty arsehole world simply do not CARE? It almost makes me want to lash out and strike at other people in a vengeful and perhaps revengeful manner, to cause other people the same sh*t what they caused me. Hey, I am not talking murder or common assault here, that's f*cking stupid. I guess I can just envision myself hooking up with some cute little b*tch and then messing up her head in the worst way possible, leaving her all f*cked-up and broken-hearted. That's almost satanic and is something that I could normally never do, but these days I just don't seem to care.
Am I becoming evil? Yes I am, and I think it's way overdue. WAY overdue. People have been evil to me so it's justice when they get the same sh*t done to them. And f*ck all of that sh*t about karma and endless continuing cycles. I ain't got time for that nonviolent bollocks. I really shouldn't be here, but I am and I just have to do anything to survive.
So everyone can go F*CK themselves. I waste all my time caring for people and running after them to make sure they're OK and all, and I don't get sh*t back. Not that I WANT sh*t back, but it pisses me off how the thought doesn't even occur to most people. Seems that all people are essentially f*cking selfish self-interested arseholes who do not have the capability of reaching out to other people and feeling their pain because they're so F*CKING SELF-ABSORBED AND WRAPPED UP IN THEIR OWN. No one ever gives, it's all take take f*cking take.
http://killuminati.blogspot.com/: ANGER: October 7th 2005: This crap needs to be resolved. F*cking b*tches, they owe me something. And every day that passes ain't helping their f*cking case. Oh boy, am I getting madder and madder by the day. Oh boy, am I gonna burn them alive or what? They all f*cking try this sh*t with me. As if I'sm some kinda lame dog or something that'll let it go. Ooh, hell no! I am NOT gonna be letting this sh*t go, especially from f*cking nervous cowards who ain't even got the guts to come and face me.
My God, I think I'm too far gone anyways. Even if something happens, the pain is permanent. The wound is way to deep. Because if something was done EARLIER, THEN IT MIGHT HAVE F*CKING HELPED, YOU F*CKING LOSER! But since NOTHING was done,. the wound is deep and the salt has been rubbed in and I feel that f*cking endless pain all day and night, boy!
I hear the guitars and it feels like a blade of steel cutting through my soul and my flesh, and it's so plesurable. I wonder how thos people feel, those people who take a razor blade to themselves and cut their flesh. I wonder how it feels. I think I want to try that, if only as a release to this intense pain that I feel. It scares me, because I was able to get over it with drink before, but now it seems that the alcohol does not work. So that scares me. If alcohol doesn't work this time, I gotta cut myself?
F*ck, I shocked myself. I used to take bottles of vodka into college and drink it in the computer room as I surfed endlessly. I'm still f*cking surprised as to how no one ever smelt it on me? So now alcohol ain't gonnabe enough to deal with this sh*t? I need to progress to self-harm? What the f*cking F*CK?!?!
I'm losing touch with reality. Someone needs to save me. Who? No idea. Who? Someone, who?
Mr. Motherf*cker, I pray to be able to survive.
http://killuminati.blogspot.com/: BACK TO VIRGIN: May 28th 2004: All in all, Cherise finished her shift and we went to next-door McDonald's to grab a coffee and a shake. I kinda like this girl. When she smiles, she looks like this evil gothic-type woman who could quite easily pass for a super-b*tch. Oh man, that is such a turn-on. Plus she's a real friendly person. Haha, that's be something - a friendly latina goth. Suddenly I had a vision of her dressed up in leather and that made me hard. I shifted around uncomfortably while she talked about how hard her day was. Her curly hair fell down naturally, framing her face in a beautiful way. Anyway, forget it.
http://killuminati.blogspot.com/: A CHANGE OF DIRECTION?: October 22nd 2005: Indeed - to contemplate on and/or mourn the death of a beloved entails the very presence of beloved, of which I have none. I have slowly been getting used to the idea that I am destined for a grey and bleak loveless future.
It is thus no wonder that I am wallowing in disillusion these days. It is no wonder that I have accepted the possibility that I will transform into a sad, lonely, bitter twisted old man. It is no wonder that I have started to feel full of rage, hate and anger. It is no wonder that I have started to seriously contemplate on and accept the possibility of the darker forces in life. It is no wonder that I have started to set my sights on the lower and fringe sections of society. It is no wonder that I read 'The Satanic Bible' by Anton Szandor LaVey. It is no wonder that I have started to lose my motivation and risk the future of several important life-projects that I am currently undertaking. It is no wonder that, to appease my tortured soul, I listen to metal. Not just any metal, mind you, Motorhead and a little Metallica is the stuff that oils my wheels these days. Regarding my taking a turn for all of this negativity, what else is there?
Mum is not so keen on it and falsely threatened to escort me there, thus causing me embarrassment. Imagine attending your first rock concert with your mother in tow? But actually during the bus journey, my wicked wheels started their motion. I had read on the venue website that they provide facilities for disabled people and that their carers go free. If she buys a disabled ticket, I'll go free! I had imagined that I would either go along or arrange to go with whichever friends I can round up. Maybe even some girl on IRC. This would be good because once I'm there, I can do whatever I like. Who knows, maybe I could take a rock chick somewhere aside and f*ck her stupid.
This young black motherf*cker was there selling weed on the street without a care in the world. I had no idea what he was doing as I ignored his calls to me, but as I was heading back the same way I noticed that he was obviously selling something to this guy. Sh*t, he had a whole brick of weed and was pulling bits off and selling it. I got caught up in the moment and asked him for £10 worth. He looked at me with dismay and suggested that I should part with at least £20. I lied and told him that 10 was all I had. So he pulled off a bit and gave it to me, which I promptly put in my pocket. Of course I knew that I was carrying 2 20's in my wallet and so I pulled one out. I was half-scared that he might not have any change but he did, and so I went on my way. As soon as this went down, I suddenly realised the implications of what I had done; all of this was in full public view! This guy sitting at a table drinking coffee saw the whole thing, what if there were f*cking cops around? Sh*t! This is not what I do! But funnily enough, I kind of got off on the adrenalin of it all, until I realised how the f*ck am I gonna smoke it?
Lemmy is f*cking cool man, he rules. I would have gotten a Celtic metal finger but the one he had didn't have the black crosses filed in, so I got a triple-skull. It'll show up nicely if I ever tell anyone to go f*ck themselves when I wear it.
I feel that these events are markers in my descent towards oblivion and self-destruction. At this point I see no hope for me at all. If there is even a slight redemptive opportunity, I do not know. It all remains to be seen how things work out.
Comment: At 5:52 AM, Fabrosi said... You my friend are clearly dilusional. DO you realize that virtually everything you said is insane....? i say it with love, i do... maybe not 'pure love' but... the universal kind.
http://killuminati.blogspot.com/: CLARIFICATIONS: July 26th 2005: I have absolutely no idea what I wrote last night, as I was seriously blind drunk. That may or may not be a good thing, but the fact that I lost my blog somehow without posting it, and then to try and pen another one when even drunker was a bad idea.
http://killuminati.blogspot.com/: COLD DEATH: October 7th 2005: I've been feeling like sh*t all week. But today was the day that I really felt like DEATH all day. I was feeling seriously miserable and f*cking down. It's almost like I have no hope left for me in life. I'm constantly thinking about what's gonna happen to me in the future. I haven't really got long, so I'm just wondering how to make the best of what I have. I put on a show of smiles for everyon, whilst inside my heart is breaking into tiny little pieces and no one can see my pain.
Nobody bothers to ask, nobody bothers to even ask what's the mater, because they do not know. Nobody seems to even care.
That's the f*cking agony of it all. I have to take care of SO MANY F*CKERS and put myself even at risk, and I don't get the same sh*t. I have no love in my life. I feel like death won't make much of a difference. I feel like I'm half dead all of the time anyway.
F*cking women, I decided today that I think all "hot" women f*cking can go f*ck themselves. F*cking snotty b*tches, f*cking little teasers, they can go die. Little b*tches, brought up as sluts. f*cking sh*tty females, my ass. They can go die.
http://killuminati.blogspot.com/: EH?: October 7th 2005: Where the f*ck as I at?
In any case, today I felt the darkness. A palpabale feeling of evil and darkness totally covering me.
I'm scared that I'm becoming unstable and psychotic. Who knows? This can only be due to the stress and sh*t I been going through lately. I didn't feel like this before, so go figure? I'm starting to avoid looking into people's faces, how disturbing is that? As far as possible I'm avoiding looking into people's faces, even friends and family. How f*cking WEIRD is that? It's sh*tty.
I desperately need help here. I think the main problem is that whenever this happened before, I at least had a friend like Miss G. who I could talk it through with and who had a sympathetic ear for me. So at least I got it out of myself. This time around I have F*CKING NO ONE. It ain't a very good idea to pick up girls by being depressed ya know. That does NOT turn on the ladies. How f*cking depressing can it be for a girl to chat up some guy who hasn't got a grip? There's Redhead, Nightz, Myla, Kat, Naz, and a whole load of others plus that sexy-looking Paki who gave me a deep look this morning.
For f*ck's sake, I think I am too far gone.
http://killuminati.blogspot.com/: EVEN MORE GLOOM: July 21st 2005: As I prepare to spend another drunken night in front of the PC, I can't help thinking what must be going on in Sri Lanka.
I really needed someone to stand by me and support me and all the tension I went through. Until i read that f*cking demonic Dear John letter. I suddenly realised that I'd have to go through all of that all alone and by myself. Hmmm, I'm not really even sure that I HAVE got over it. I just know that if I still think and dream about Sri Lanka then I still have unresolved issues. F*cking bastards, the lot of them. Each and every one of them is a f*cking backstabber. You'd think that you can't trust anyone in this world except your blood? Well f*ck that, now even your blood can stab you in the back when you ain't watching.
It ain't that easy. I'm not even in the mood for happiness since this girl has now f*cked me up beyond all repair. I mentioned yesterday that when this all happened I tried to be sympathetic and understanding, but all she has done so far is spit in my face. Some days I feel really angry, vengeful and hateful. I gotta admit that I am becoming the same bitter and twisted person that I was when I met her. So what? Maybe that's my destiny.
I have turned to this line of anger and hatefulness relatively recently since something important occurred to me. To me, it appeared to be the real measure of our non-relationship. Due to my total immersion is f*cking stupid lovesickness, I wasn't thinking clearly, and then suddenly it hit me like a flash of lightning in a moment of clarity.
F*cking women, they're all on the same side. No wonder they think differently, they're a totally different species! `They reckon all guys are bad and so they must all get in a closed-off group and protect each other. F*cking bollocks. Of course it's ALWAYS the guy's fault, even when they guy hasn't done anything at all except give away their soul. Well f*ck that. I could have died in those blasts, and she didn't even f*cking care.
And that hurts me deep. That really stung, when I realised that. It really stung.
And i can't even talk to anyone about how I feel, because nobody cares. Nobody at all.
http://killuminati.blogspot.com/: INEBRIATED: July 25th 2005: F*ck this drunken sh*t... Actually no.. I LOVE mixin drinks... Makes you more drunk than you have a right to be.. ;) In any case, four glasses of whiskey coupled with two bottles of Stella shoud sort you out .. ;)
http://killuminati.blogspot.com/: LOSE MY BUS PASS: I lost my bus pass and the money which was in it to buy my ticket for the Motorhead gig. :( So I got as drunk as f*ck, haha.
http://killuminati.blogspot.com/: MORE CRAP: July 28th 2005: She's probably immersed in her own problems and f*cking insecurities, stupid insecurities which never meant sh*t to me and which she always made a big issue about. IT DIDN'T MATTER- NONE OF IT EVER MATTERED TO ME, but she just didn't get it.
It's her loss, basically. Now she has to find someone else to make her feel good about what she did to me. And then she'll probably come back again in six months or so flaunting her new guy and like, "Hey you, look who I've met and he's tons better than you!" F*ck that lame sh*t. Not only is that lame but I'd kill the both of them. Going around for a laugh. I bet she's online as well and has just blocked me from her msn, how lame is that?
And Arryana can go f*ck herself as well, stupid b*tch.
http://killuminati.blogspot.com/: LOGICAL DEVELOPMENT OF A CHANGED DIRECTION: November 2nd 2005: Writing all of the above put me in such a seriously bad and low mood for the rest of the evening and night. My mood was SO low that I was literally walking around like a zombie. It was kinda funny, the dirty looks I was giving to everybody who crossed my path that night. Only later I realised how much licence I was giving them to beat the sh*t out of me. Usually my black moods make me want to kick some arse and do some serious damage to people, but at that point I really couldn't have cared any less.
http://killuminati.blogspot.com/: PROGRESS 1?: October 15th 2005: Women as a whole are really starting to piss me off. Why don't they just go and f*ck off?
You either get "hot" women who prance about thinking that they're all that and how incredibly lucky you are to even be in their presence, or you get the ugly b*tches whose tongues hang out for you all over the floor. Heh, even though it made me feel like sh*t to go and meet up with Redhead Anna, I'm seriously glad I didn't. What was I thinking? The woman is so f*cking ugly. She'd make dogs bark at each other. It's just as well I took a bottle of whiskey, I think I might have needed to get seriously drunk before I could get down to some serious sh*t with her. I can't believe I even contemplated it.
http://killuminati.blogspot.com/: PROGRESS 2?: August 8th 2005: She can go to hell and she can go f*ck herself. I have better things to do than be distracted by women who haven't a f*cking clue what they want. It's be SO f*cking easy to just get into a no-strings thing with someone, if only I could find someone. But hey, that'll come with time.
And whatever else, I certainly have no need to drink myself stupid every day over her any more. Why the f*ck should I ruin my liver for her? Who the f*ck does she think she is?
http://killuminati.blogspot.com/: NU METAL: May 30th 2004: By this time I was gasping for a drink. I bought a can of shandy. Lame I know, but it was the first thing I saw. One the way home I stopped off at a pub for a pint of Guinness. Just as I was ordering, some rock/gothic chick in a miniskirt and boots walked in and turned out she was the barmaid there. Gave me something cool to look at while I was supping.
http://killuminati.blogspot.com/: RETURN OF THE BLOG: July 20th 2005: I guess I'll just write whatever's on my mind just so I can get it out of me instead of bottling it all up inside myself like I always have done, and run the risk of turning mental. So over the coming days and months (years?) I'll write whatever I need to talk about and spew all my bitterness out. Oh what the hell, let me go ahead...
How sad is it to write to a blog, though? To me it seems like utter desperation. It seems that you really have no one at all in your sad little life to talk to, so you talk to some internet website? Well anyway, Betty (SourGirl) started her own up at LiveJournal and is venting her sh*t over there. Poor girl, she's so tormentned. It kinda reminded me of my own blog and how I had forgotten it. It's still kinda sad I think, but hey, it's not like I have a choice. B*tches run away, and "mates" have nothing to say, and there's no games to play, and too many bills to pay. Poor Frazer (Zanatos), he just listens to me pour my heart out but has nothing to say except "sorry" and "sorry to hear that". Nice chap he is, but at the end of the day it makes me feel guilty for pouring my heart out. Betty also listens and tries to be understanding, but she's too much on the young side. Poor girl, she's lived a rotten life and is way more mature than she should be, but still I find it difficult to talk to someone like that.
Truth is, I have no one in this life. The ex before the ex, Bhavna, really and sh*ttily screwed me up so bad that I'm almost burnt for life. It was then that I decided that I should get used to the fact that I would die a lonely sad old twisted and bitter man. The type of old bastard cynic on his rocking chair who spits and fumes at everything in the outside world, I'll grow into that guy. Funny how I actually fell for all that crap again with Anna. Oh well, maybe I'll write more on that later, but anyways, yep, I should just get used to being a lonely old sod. All alone in this universe. There's no one out there.
Was that depressing? I think it's reality, and it's something I should get used to.
Anyway, what's the point of crying about it now? I cry every night as it is, into my glass of whisky. I drink myself half-stupid every night since I got back and read that f*cking "Dear John" email. I f*cking hate whisky, but that was the only alcoholic thing they drank in Sri Lanka and I developed a taste for it, so there. Beer will only give you a big belly anyway, liquor is where it's at. The hard stuff. Absinthe? Never tried it. Want to? I'd love some. Even though I'll have to f*cking figure out where to get it from and all.
http://killuminati.blogspot.com/: RIDE OR DIE: August 24th 2005: How quaintly romantic it would be to purchase a gun and put it into your mouth. Tasting the metal as you run your tongue around the barrel, close your eyes, and blow your brains out. Next stop? That journey is too frightening to contemplate. I should stick to the whisky. I need to get some more bottles of whisky and vodka. I don't have any in the house and I'm climbing up the walls.
Waves of misery and grief wash over me as I contemplate the black starry night, the screeching of the owls enter my ears and fills my throbbing heart with pulsating fear. I no longer know myself, as I have swept away by the winds of change, and I know not where I will land.
http://killuminati.blogspot.com/: ROCK ON: July 1st 2004: I never been with rock girls before and all sorts of thoughts flooded my mind. Are they kinky? Are they into whips and chains? Are they gonna play metal there? What they gonna be wearing? How nasty can they get usually? My mind was a blur. Well never mind. To cut a long story short, I got there, did the business, went home.
http://killuminati.blogspot.com/: ROCK PICK UP: May 28th 2004: What can I say? Rock chicks, umm.. ROCK! It's gotta be the Jesus look, I swear. Too many ladies have been passing me stares ever since the Jesus thing started. Jesus, I love you so much man. You know I been a bad boy at times, but you ROCK! Your look is massive, I love it!
http://killuminati.blogspot.com/: SADNESS: August 24th 2005: Overwhelming despair welling up deep in my heart. No recourse to turn to, no one to hold. Tears of sadness flow from my eyes as I weep in the darkness for release. No one hears the bitter sobs as I cry for a saviour to liberate my soul from this gutter. The chains of iniquity lie around my neck and my hands are tied together with the rope of regret while the children outside laugh and play in joyful glee. I close my eyes and feel the waves of misery crash on the rocks of my heart and sway my body to the rhythm of the vulture's call.
http://killuminati.blogspot.com/: SCAR TISSUE: October 16th 2005: I was flicking through it on the bus back home when I came across a passage where Kiedis was describing an early sexual experience. He made a reference to an earlier experience with a girl called Kimberley. I flicked back a couple of pages until I found it - and did it blow more than my mind or WHAT!
Get this - the boy was TWELVE years old when he lost his virginity to an EIGHTEEN year old. And if such cool statutory rape was not enough (haha), the girl was his DAD'S GIRLFRIEND! And, wait for it - the dad gave his approval and set it up!
http://killuminati.blogspot.com/: SHALENE SOBER: October 4th 2005: I really shouldn't blog when I'm pissed; the alcohol makes me incoherent and a bad typist and the text becomes incomprehensible. I guess what I was trying to convey was how it always works out like sh*t.
http://killuminati.blogspot.com/: SHALENE: October 4th 2005: Why is it that this f*cking sh*t happens to me EVERY time? Usually I treat girls like the f*cking sluts that they ARE, but the very moment I actually start to believe that someone among them can be a ittle different; warm, honest, loving, trusting and all of that sh*t, and I actually start beliving in that love sh*t in that a so as I start to IDEALISE them and hold them as "perfect" in my mind, they somehow fall down and the whole thing goes to sh*t. I mean sometimes I wonder if the jinx is in me; maybe my association causes other people to become deviants or so form an accepted moral code.
But, in any case, just look at the lame horny sluts that I have after me; there's Redhead Anna, there's Miss PAraguay and so many promiscuous f*ck swho if I'd sleep with I'd probably pick up some unknown STD. So why should I keep crying over HER and miss HER when I have so many f*cking SLUTS to enjoy with?
I guess I don't know, except to feal extremely low when I feel rejected more or less; it's the same feeling that as SOON as I start to idealise them and consider them a 100% perfect in my mind and vision, they f*cking let me down and let the whole thing down, exposing themselves as weaklings.
http://killuminati.blogspot.com/: A SH*T LIFE: August 23rd 2005: Well I spent a lot of time today thinking very deeply of how I may have to spend the rest of my life alone. Some issues arose today that were unsavoury and I realised how it is the same in all the branches of my family. For f*cks sake, I come from a huge family so why the f*ck do I feel so alone?
I felt really miserable today, really miserable. How the hell can this world be full of people who just want to chew you up and then spit you out? Even your f*cking family? That's sure surprising, how even your blood can do that to you. F*ck's sake, I'm seriously gonna turn into a bitter twisted old man for the rest of my life.
There's not much point in being nice to people when you get sweet FA in return. And if things are like that in your own blood, then what is there to say about friends? THERE AIN'T NO FRIENDS! It's the f*cking same everywhere, no one cares about you really and they all wanna just use you for something. And "love" dosn't exist either; it's all a crock of marketing sh*t created by Hallmark to sell cards.
What's the point of even smiling anymore? Why paint a smile on your face when your heart is crying within? I think that's what most people do. paint their faces with smiles just like clowns do. I sometimes wonder about the dynamics of the 'sad clown' - what exactly does that represent? It's an interesting question to ponder.
In any case, it looks like I'm gonna be stuck in this rut and I can't see a way out of it. I am gonna die like this, in this sh*t, I swear I am. And who knows what's gonna happen? There are no words to express this pain, it can only express itself as a dull glimmer in your yearning eyes. Aching heart and yearning eyes are the two things that everyone is going to take with them to their graves. I just sometimes feel like ending it all, 'nuff said.
http://killuminati.blogspot.com/: TARGET LONDON 1: July 22nd 2005: Who the f*ck do these Muslims think they are anyway? They're seriously starting to piss me off now. F*cking jihadis and their stupid martyrdom operations. Martyrdom, my arse. I reckon if I see a Muslim, I'll pull his beard just for the fun of it, and run away laughing insanely. Just to piss them off. These guys need to be taught a serious lesson though..
http://killuminati.blogspot.com/: TARGET LONDON 2: July 22nd 2005: And then I had the Ratha-yatra religious parade through London on Sunday. Missed the chance to see Nikina and Vaishnava though, but hey, my brushes with death are coming closer and closer. Is it time for me to die? Who the f*ck cares anyway? At least I got a chance to experience some of that. Maybe I was not destined for it, and thus it slipped through my fingers. Let me die alone. Just leave me to die alone. Let them find my body six months after I have died, why should I give a f*ck? No one cares.
http://killuminati.blogspot.com/: THINGS I GOTTA THINK ABOUT: July 25th 2005: Now for f*cks sake, I lost a good blog where I poured out a lotta sh*t, so now just bear with me. So it's a good thing that I made a list of the things I wanted to write about last night. I couldn't write b ecause I was pissed and tired. Pissed as in drunk, not angry. Why do I need to be angry anyways? Well maybe I was a little angry about some things. So here goes.
Maybe I should talk about my deepest feelings when I'm pissed drunk, but when am I NOT drunk? I been crying and drinking every night since I got back from SL. And why? F*ck knows, man. I care for this b*tch, I love her more than anything, and she doesn't even realise.. And they say the "real person" come sout when drunk, but I dunno how true that is. I know I become real quiet and "sweet" as they tell me, or at the most I become quite talkative, but I am never mean and nasty as some are. It's just not in me. I love this girl, I see no shame in admitting it.
But if I find out she's sleeping with someone else, I'll go kill the both of them in just a second.
http://killuminati.blogspot.com/: TRAINS JESUS SEX RANT: May 25th 2004: From the corner of my eye I could see that he was trying to check me out, probably wondering how I groom my own hair. Why was he staring at my hair? And my beard, and my shades? Hey listen. don't be fooled by that cheesey-grin picture on the profile (if you can even see it right now). My hair has grown a lot since then, shoulder-length. And since I recently got my bathroom redone, it just hasn't been that much of a botheration to shave. To tell the truth, I was just too busy to get my hair cut too, and so it grew and grew until I figured, 'Hey this looks cool, I'll keep it.' Therefore I look a bit like Jesus Christ I suppose. Some girls on IRC have shown some serious interest in this description. No fear, photos are coming. I gotta admit, looking like Jesus has had its good points especially since the release of "Passion of the Christ." It seems to me that there is a general awareness in the public relating to Jesus' sacrifice. Other than that, it occurred to me the other day that look of Jesus Christ - long hair and beard - has a primeval look about it. After all, we didn't always have razor blades and electric shavers, nor scissors for that matter. Jesus-fashion has always been 'in' amongst New-Age hippies and fringies also I suppose. I know, since I saw enough of them in India. The long hair and beard seems to go well with my eyes, in my opinion. I always thought that I had pretty intense eyes. Ever since I was a kid, I simply had to look at other crying kids and they would stop crying. No idea why, am I that ugly? It just happens. So if anyone of you have crying kids, send them over and I'll just look at them. Anyway, so it seems to go well with my eyes, this Jesus look. It has also helped when I am in a rough area. Previously I have gotten looks as if I am easy to mug or something. This hasn't been the case since I got into the Jesus look. It seems that I have a "don't mess with me" look, which can be pretty cool in an awkward situation but it has the disadvantage of making me look too tough and unapproachable or something. Does it attract the girls, is what I wanna know? Some girls just don't like beards, which is fine since I don't happen to think they are that pretty too, haha. But yeah, I gotta admit, I've found that I've been getting a few more looks since I got this Jesus-face. Who knows why, it can't be all that bad.
The girl I took out the other night seemed to get off on it too. In fact she told me that she seriously got off on the fact that I look like Jesus. Maybe that's why she was so wild in bed. Although I had never slept with her before, I got the distinct impression that she was somehow "extra wild" that night. That was certainly a primeval night anyways. Ahhh, I'm still catching my breath from it.
Boots are great, they confer automatic sexiness on whoever wears them. A girl who wears boots has got Goddess Status. Just try it out and see girls, put on a pair of boots and see how many guys have their tongues hanging out licking the dirty pavement behind you, all willing to be your slave. Not that I'm like that, oh no, I can control myself, heh. But eh, its one of my fetishes so sue me. Strappy shoes are cool too but they are so last year. It was fun when just a few women were wearing them but it got a bit boring when everybody and anybody had strappy shoes. Otherwise seriously, some girls I totally RUINED them when they wore strappies in bed. God, they look so amazing and so horny. I'm not into feet, I'm into the shoes. The way the designer made these shoes so that they swirl perfectly around a girl's ankles is just PURE ECSTASY. Sometimes you come across a picture of a porn star (like Sylvia Saint, cough cough) or some other woman wearing these high-heels with straps that swirl themselves all the way up the girl's calves: Paradise. Last summer I was seriously into strappy shoes - I would have been anybody's slave if they wore strappy shoes - until the summer ended and everyone started wearing knee-high boots instead, ostensibly to cover up their legs.
My earliest fantasies used to revolve around licking p*ssy - I was seriously into that then, too - and I know for a fact that I ain't THAT much into it now. Yes, you heard. My idea of having sex in those days was simply to go down on a girl and make her scream. Lucky girls eh. These days, muff-diving well, I'll do it but I ain't keen on it. Sorry. When I finally lost my virginity, it was to a girl who initially refused to do anything except suck d*ck, so I guess I was into that for a while. Who doesn't like a girl who sucks d*ck anyway? It was not like I had any choice though.
Later I did other things with this girl and that became fun, but the memory of those earliest oral pleasures have always stayed with me. She was a girl who had her own house and whose boyfriend was away for long periods. It was fun to go around to her house and f*ck her while she was washing the dishes, she only lived up the road. The kitchen is such an inventive place to f*ck; all sorts of positions can be got into and all sortsa things can be played with. This reminds me of a fantasy I had about two years ago. Picture this: a woman in the kitchen, doing whatever she's doing - cooking, making tea, whatever - and engrossed in that activity, completely naked except for high-heeled strappy shoes. Nothing too kinky about that, sorry to disappoint. But this fantasy didn't turn out to be REAL for you did it?! ;) And that girl constantly teased me about it by muttering "Clack clack" under her breath every time she saw me. It turned me on every time.
http://killuminati.blogspot.com/: TRIBUTE TO PETRUCCI (#VANCOUVER-FREE): August 19th 2005: Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh F*CK! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh SH*T! Last time I gave a sh*t, I got F*CKED!
http://killuminati.blogspot.com/: UPDATE: October 7th 2005: Anyway, I seriously felt like utter sh*t last weekend. So this girl and I got chatting and it turned out that we kinda get on very well. She's no good looker, in fact she's no supermodel at all, she ain't someone I'd look at twice unless she wore boots. And that's just it, she owns a HUGE collection of boots and shoes, haha. Well anyway, I flirted with her even though she has a boyfriend, and she took it on board but was later like, "no I love him" and all that sh*t. So fair enough.
Funny how as time goes on, I guess she got kinda interested and started flirting with ME. In any case, I was noncommital with all the sh*t I'VE been through recently and all. I really don't need anyone in my life right now even though I'm DYING to have someone, does that make any sense? So she blatantly asks me when we're gonna meet up to f*ck. I humour her, saying it's gonna happen and all that blah blah.
Anyway I decided to kind of check it out and I arranged to meet up with her. So we were gonna meet up at her place while her boyfriend was away for a week. Ain't that smooth? I took a bottle of whisky coz I thought it'd be fun to have a drink as well as put us in the mood and all that. Throwing away your inhibitions and all that sh*t. And frankly, because she's not that much of a looker, I figure I'd need it. Harsh I agree, but hey, that's just the way it goes.
So I guess I thought it was gonna happen. At the very least we'd hand out at her place, have a drink and a laugh about stuff. At the most, we'd f*ck. Easy promise. And - for f*ck's sake - I did nothing to turn this girl on except be my usual self. I can't help it if girls put it up on offer.
So this bloody redhead, lol. I guess she forgot that she was suposed to pick me up at the station and take me down to her place, because she was shopping for shoes (!!) somewhere on Regent Street. Man, I was so pissed. It's too much of a long story to go through it all here but I guess it never happened, and in some ways I'm glad that it didn't. I really felt like utter sh*t. SH*T. I felt like utter sh*t because I was meeting up with some b*tch I hardly know for some probable sex, just like I used to do. I'm meeting up with some b*tch for sex when I'm not even over the ex yet.
http://killuminati.blogspot.com/: VOMIT: October 14th 2005: As time goes on, you begin to realise the sadness and grief of it all. Sometimes it might take a very big event to get it all into perspective and make you stop and think about where you're going. So the other night when I got so drunk that I ended up vomiting in the kitchen sink, after that I kind of realised how I had managed to vomit my pain out. My grief has considerably lessened since then, even though it is still very much there.
I must have been talking seriously stupid the other night, when the f*ck have I ever contemplated cutting myself? That's f*cking mental. I shouldn't write when I'm drunk. Or should I, given that all the honest feelings come pouring out? Hmmmm...
Metal seems to have the special quality of slicing through your flesh and gliding straight into a pain-wracked soul. As such, I do not NEED to cut myself. I just need to listen to some good metal, as the guitars do all the cutting for me that I need. And so I can just open my heart to the steel sword that begs to cut through my flesh and intertwine itself with my nerves, and like a violin let it play the most mournful music anyone has ever heard.. While raining hellfire spills forth from my eyes...