Iron Maiden

Another one of my favorite album covers.

Kreator

This song isn't on this album, but this is one of my favorite album covers.

Love Us Or Hate Us (Kreator song)

Don't try to tell us what is right for us
We don't give a fuck anyway
Don't try to steal imagination from us
Things we believe, we will never betray

Those who have the power to
Suck us dry, throw us away
Those who never could create
Destroy the music of today
Those devoid of any feeling
Those who make the compromise
Betray themselves to make a deal
Sell their soul at any price

Sounds without feeling, energy of agressions
From money hungry brains and not from the heart
Fortune, fame and glory are their obsessions
Salesman, deaf to music, blind to art,

No honesty, just sterility a cautious sound they make
Without creativity it's still the same
As another age when they took the words
Of truth and put them to a flame

No more
Love us or hate us
No more
Love us or hate us

Some have eyes and still can't see
Their plastic noise is anything but music to me
Mechanized and computerized
Switch off your brain and make sounds that dehumanize

No more
Love us or hate us
No more
Love us or hate us

Don't try to take our dreams away from us
We will never be like you
Love us or hate us, it doesn't matter to me
We don't want to be a part of this sick society

Those who have a passion to
Will never change our way of life
We may not think the way you do
But we know that we are right
Those who want to form a world
Of friends and monotony
Will have to do it without us
'Cause we always be free

One Foot in the Grave

 
Living life with one foot in the grave is complicated.  I think about suicide every day.  When you think you might be committing suicide in the near future, it can make it difficult to plan ahead.  Why should I do this or that thing I don't want to do if I'm gong to kill myself soon?  Why should I clean if I don't want to (and I never want to)?  Why should I apply to a job that I don't really want?  Why should I take shit from someone?  Why not let them have it (verbally, not physically)?  Because I might not have the balls to kill myself.  It's harder than it may seem.  Although, you can change that.  There recently was a double murder suicide fairly close to the city where I live.  This guy killed his ex-girlfriend and her current boyfriend with a knife.  Then he killed himself with the knife.  Suicide by knife is not how I would do it, but the thought of going to prison for the rest of his life probably made it easier for him to do it.
Living with a foot in the grave affects what I post on this blog.  Should I hold on to stuff, because I might be able to publish it in the future for money?  Some publishers aren't interested in anything that's been published previously elsewhere: even on a little blog like this one.  Should I not hold back and post everything, because my living days are numbered?
I hope this blog will help people understand what it's like to have depression.  It's brutal.  It's hard to put into words how miserable I am.  Life feels like a prison, and death seems like freedom.  Some would consider all this talk about suicide, coming from someone who's alive, to be bullshit.  However, I have attempted suicide, which means I'm in a high-risk group to eventually complete the act  Years ago, I bought a how-to-commit-suicide book, which mentioned the various methods: how successful they are, how much pain is involved, etc.  If I kill myself, then all this hoopla about suicide will have been validated.  And if I don't, then hopefully I've helped people understand what it's like to have depression.            

Meaningless Existence

That's what mine is.  I wasn't brought into this world because I was wanted; I was a mistake.  My mother literally called me that one day.  She said I was a mistake.  Interesting that she would call me a mistake when I didn't make the mistake.  But my mother is like so many adults; she refuses to take responsibility for anything.  Every mistake she makes is somehow someone else's fault.  According to her, it wasn't her fault she got knocked up as a teen, it was my father's.  He promised to pull out, but he didn't.
I sink lower and lower.  If I don't land a job soon, the money I can borrow from my credit card will run out.  I'm trying.  I'm trying to survive, even though, with depression and OCD, I don't see many reasons to.  Everyday, I'm thinking of ways to kill myself that will succeed without causing me too much pain.  Today I did laundry.  If I wasn't considering suicide, I would not have laundered a particular pair of pants.  These pants are workout pants, and they're really not my thing.  They're spandex-like.  I washed them, because I thought they'd be good for hanging myself in.  Perhaps they could catch my shit that would doubtlessly emanate from my ass after I died.  Why care about shit on the carpet when you're dead? you might ask.  What if I failed, and I didn't die, but I shit the carpet?
There is so much to write: so much to express.  But it really seems like  time is running out for me.        

Tragedy

 
I'll begin with the animals.  Innumerable animal lives have been tragic.  Humans have played a huge part in that: using them any way they see fit.  How many cows would have been great mothers, but weren't given a chance, because their calves were taken away shortly after birth, so people could take the milk instead?  How many pigs, chickens, and turkeys would have made great pets?  I've seen pigs that were pets (on TV).  I saw a pig push a soccer ball around.  I saw a pig put a toy back in the toy box once she was finished with it.  I have cuddled with pigs and given them belly rubs.  When I began to rub their bellies, they acted just like dogs do; they rolled onto their sides so they could get proper belly rubs.  Of course, most pigs aren't pets.  Many of them are kept in gestation crates, where they have no room to walk anywhere, or even turn around.  That's their reality until it's time to be murdered.  Hens make great pets too.  There's an organization called HenPower, which brings hens to senior citizens living in nursing homes.  Hens make great pets, because they're soft, and they don't bite (even though they have every right to bite people considering what we've done to them).  Turkeys have made great pets too.  I saw one running with the family dog and a human friend.  How many great animal friendships would have developed if we hadn't separated them for our own selfish reasons?  The way people have treated countless animals is horrible: denying them a chance to live natural, happy, peaceful lives.
Then there are people who have lived tragic lives.  The cemeteries are full of them.  So many people had so much promise, but life didn't treat them fairly.  As I've mentioned before, people come from 3 basic sorts of families: those that are abusive, those that are unsupportive, and those that are very helpful.  When ti comes to people who have lived tragic lives, none immediately come to mind. That's because many of the lucky people are the rich and famous ones.  Donald Trump had a rich daddy.  I used to act; people told me I was good at it.  So I can't help focusing on actors who have made it as a result of nepotism: Charlie Sheen, George Clooney, and Angelina Jolie are only a few of them.  I could go on and on with that list.
I can't help thinking that my life will end in tragedy: for me, a big one, but, for the world, it wouldn't even register.  I've been told that I'm funny.  I know I haven't shown that side here.  But I've written a lot of comedic material.  Lately, I've been reviewing it and trying to organize it.  I may not have time to do anything with it.  Time, and money, is running out for me.  It turns out that time really is money. When my credit card won't let me have any more cash advances, I'm looking at homelessness or suicide.        
I keep trying to find a job.  I recently "tried out" for a job as a pants presser in a dry cleaner shop.  I was shown how to do it.  It involved 2 machines and an iron.  I dressed up; I shouldn't have.  It was hot there.  Apparently, I didn't do very well.  They didn't call me back.  I tried my hardest, though.  First prize, you live.  Second prize, you die.             

Rough Week

 
I was so sure I wasn't afraid of death, but, apparently, I am.  I sort of tried to hang myself.  It didn't work out.  I felt so claustrophobic with that noose around my neck.  Also, I lack the engineering ability, or determination, to hang myself in my home (it seems).  If one is determined enough, one can hang oneself from a doorknob.  I suppose I'm not determined enough (yet).
So, as previously mentioned, jumping was next on my mind.  I walked to the bridge of death.  First, I prepared: not only online, but with a note and as far as what I had on me.  What if I almost jumped, but didn't, and, as a result, stuff I needed fell out of my pockets and into the river?  So I walked to the bridge and looked down.  It really would be a miracle if I, or anyone else, survived jumping from the bridge and onto the river rocks below.  I had doubts about being able to do it prior to arriving there.  But once I looked down, I was done.  The thought of falling that distance was so f*cking scary.  I walked home.
Since then, I've been thinking of other methods.  Although, all in all, today was a pretty good day.  They always start badly.  I hate waking up.  I really wish I could just die, peacefully and painlessly, in my sleep.  Again, exercise really helped my mood.  It can change things for the better.
So I'm alive for now.  I really hate my parents.  They thoughtlessly brought me into this world, and this is the sort of shit I have to deal with as a result.           

Dark Days

 
I just took out another $1,000 cash advance on my credit card so I can pay my rent and the minimum payments on my credit cards this month.  If I don't get a job and make some money, or extend the credit line on one of my cards, or acquire a new credit card, then I will be able to do this for a maximum of one month more.
I'm looking for a job.  They don't want me.  I'm human garbage.  I hate waking up.  I wish I could die, peacefully and painlessly, in my sleep.  It occurred to me it's strange that people even read this blog (It gets page views.).  It's really f*cking dark (but also real, when so much is phony).  And, even if I do kill myself, it won't happen here.  I'll just stop blogging, because dead people don't blog.
It seems like any day can be the day.  After all, I've attempted suicide before.  I pretty much have 2 choices; I can hang myself or jump.  I think hanging is the better choice, because it seems to involve less suffering.  The problem is that it involves a set up.  Jumping is much more spontaneous.  There is a bridge, within walking distance, that, I'm pretty sure, would do the job.  In fact, I went for a walk today, and I walked right under it.  I'd have a choice.  I could jump into the river, which would be very shallow there, or I could land on a street.  The river is preferable, because, if I survived the fall, it would take longer to rescue me if I was in the water than if I was on the road.  I don't want to be "saved."  What bothers me most about jumping is the pain.. If I don't die instantly, the pain is likely to be very intense.  And who knows how long the pain will last?  The thought of my body hitting that street, or the river rocks, is a horrible one.  I don't deserve that.
Then there's the issue of whether I want to die free (outside) or in my prison (my apt, where, as I mentioned, my neighbor has tormented me).  So it's a complicated choice.  Also, jumping would mean going out on a thrill.  It's a tough choice.       

Angel of Death

My neighbor from hell might be the angel of death.  I've got enough keeping me down: depression, OCD, unemployment, massive credit card debt, etc.  But he's pushing me so far and so hard, that he might be just what I need to finally make me kill myself.
I need to sort through this.  I'm obsessed with him and the situation.  He's not worth my, or anyone else's, time, though.  I can't recall if I mentioned this before here.  I try to not repeat myself, I know it's annoying, but I can't be bothered to look back (too far) either.  My next-door neighbors woke me up around 1:00 am Christmas morning.  They were talking loudly in front of my door.  But that wasn't enough.  Then the asshole went out for a cigarette.  The whole time he was outside my windows, he was singing at the top of his lungs.  Wow, did he piss me off!  Then he came into the building: still singing.  I got out of bed, went to my front door, and yelled "Shut up!" as loudly as I could.  I was still very angry, which makes it hard to fall asleep again.  I lied there: cursing him.  When Monday came, I finally called the office about him.  I pretty much only complained about what I thought I could complain about.  I mentioned that he and his wife have conversations in the hallway at 5:00 am that I think they should have in their apt.: because of the time.  The office lady agreed with me.  Then I mentioned what happened Christmas, and that he ruined it.  He did.  I'm used to spending holidays alone, but that made it extra worse.  The office lady was very understanding and said she would talk to them.  
The next day, I saw them.  As I was parking in the lot, I saw them walking to the office.  He looked angry.  They had to go to the office.  It was a close call for me.  If one of them looked back, they could have seen me in my car.  I'm worried they will find out which car is mine, because I obviously don't want it to be vandalized.
Since then, I haven't heard any 5 am hallway conversations.  I also haven't heard him singing at 1 am.  But I've heard him singing.  He forces me to listen to his singing every single day.  I hear it through the walls.  I hear it coming from the hallway through my front door.  It's so annoying.  I definitely feel like I'm being harassed.  I've been thinking about how to deal with it.  I might call the office again, but, since he's not doing it late at night or very early in the morning, I could very well be shit out of luck.  I've also considered yelling through the wall, or the door, at him.  These are some of the things I've considered yelling at him when I hear his shitty singing;
"Stop singing through the wall!"
"Stop singing in the hall!"
"Stop singing through the door!"
"Stop forcing me to listen to your singing!"
"Shut up!"
"Stop harassing me, (their apt number)!"
"Hey hey, ho ho, (their apt #) has got to go!"
"You're evil!  If you don't stop harassing me, you're going to hell (His wife is religious.)!"
"Stop harassing me, or I'll call the police (pretty much a bluff  I doubt they'd do anything.)
Typing them out, they sure seem ridiculous.  But that's the point.  He's driving me crazy.  That's another one ("You're driving me crazy!").  So far, I haven't done any of that.  I'm worried about making the situation worse.  Maybe I'll try calling the office again.
Today, he was singing his head off again.  I left to go for a walk.  I could still hear him when I was outside the building.  Then I realized that he left the building after me.  He also walked in the same direction I did.  I felt like turning around and confronting him.  But I'm so pissed off at him, that a face-to-face confrontation is probably a very bad idea.  I felt better after my walk, as I usually do.  Exercise is great therapy.  It really helps.  But, of course, once I got home, I heard him singing again.  Something's gotta give.             

I Don't Believe in Love

 
(a Queensryche song)

I awoke on impact
Under surveillance from the camera eye
Searching high and low
The criminal mind found at the scene of the crime
Handcuffed and blind, I didn't do it
She said she loved me
I guess I never knew
But do we ever, ever really know?
She said she'd meet me on the other side
But I knew right then, I'd never find her
I don't believe in love
I never have, I never will
I don't believe in love
It's never worth the pain that you feel
No more nightmares, I've seen them all
From the day I was born, they've haunted my every move
Every open hand's there to push and shove
No time for love it doesn't matter
She made a difference
I guess she had a way
Of making every night seem bright as day
Now I walk in shadows, never see the light
She must have lied 'cause she never said goodbye
I don't believe in love
I never have, I never will
I don't believe in love
I'll just pretend she never was real
I don't believe in love
I need to forget her face, I see it still
I don't believe in love
It's never worth the pain that you feel
No chance for contact
There's no raison d'etre
My only hope is one day I'll forget
The pain of knowing what can never be
With or without love it's all the same to me
I don't believe in love
I never have, I never will
I don't believe in love
I'll just pretend she never was real
I don't believe in love
I need to forget her face, I see it still
I don't believe in love
It's never worth the pain that you feel

Cretins

 
I've been trying to promote Veganman lately.  I've been emailing lots of vegan/animal rights websites and asking them to help get the word out.  I've gotten some positive responses.  I even got a great review from someone who read the book in one sitting.  But I've encountered cretins too.  My Googles have unintentionally brought their slimy selves to the surface.  There's a group on Facebook called "I love animals but hate animal rights activists."  It absolutely disgusted me.  They are probably all meat eaters that are fine with the way animals are currently being treated, which, in many cases, is horrendously.  Whoever liked that page, and there was a depressing amount that did, is a piece of shit, and whoever started it is a colossal piece of shit.  I briefly thought about leaving a comment, then thought better of it.  Those cretins aren't worth my time.
In fact, one of my Facebook "friends" (I don't really know her.  It just goes to show how fake and phony our culture has become.  By the way, I only joined FB to promote my writing.)  responded to a post of mine.  I came across this website that listed Rachael Ray as one of the top 10 animal rights activists: unbelievable!  The bitch cooks dead animal flesh on her show!  She's gotten rich as a result of showing people how to make dead meat delicious.  So I posted what a crock of shit that was.  This is the exchange:
Me: Unbelievable! This stupid website, beliefnet, listed Rachael Ray as one of the top 10 animal rights activists! She cooks meat on her TV show! I left an incredulous comment, which quickly got pushed past the positive ones. What a bad joke.
Her: I eat meat doesnt make me any less a protector of Animals!! 
Me: You're not protecting the animals you're eating. That's for sure
Her: Strange logic!
Me: Not at all. When you buy meat, you're supporting animal cruelty. There's no way around it.
Her: No im a meat eater and being a veggie doesnt stop animals being killed!!
Me: When you buy meat, you're paying "people" to keep animals in horrible conditions. Are you somehow not aware of the horrible ways in which "food" animals are treated? You're also paying them to murder them. We don't need meat to survive. Eating meat is cruel.
Her: (no response)
Then I found (wasn't looking for it) a website that complained about how animal rights activists are driving up the cost of meat, eggs, and so on.  I could only read so much of it.  Someone bitched and moaned that eggs were more expensive cause a law was passed that gave hens more space in their cages (They're still in CAGES!).  Also felt like responding there, but didn't.  Hey, asshole, if eggs are too expensive, how about NOT buying them, you stupid cretin!            

Crushing, Killing Debt

 
Currently, my retirement options are a) homelessness and b) suicide.  I have over $23,000 in credit card debt.  I should be like the average human.  I should care much, much more about money than animals.  But I can't.  I just can't.  I care more about animals than money every second of every day.
I was watching a movie that I like the other day called The Boost, which is about drug addiction.  James Woods buys an expensive car, and a dog, for his wife (Sean Young).  I'm relying on my memory, but he essentially said, "A $50,000 car and a $2 mutt-go figure."  That line saddened me immediately and deeply, because, in our society and world, it's true.  I don't agree with that.  I truly believe the life of one mouse is worth more than all the money in the world.  Animals are flesh and blood; money is paper and metal.
But, in our society, money is worth more than life.  That's one of humankind's contributions to this world.  It can safely be said that, in our society, all these items are worth more than the lives of countless animals: smartphones, cars, houses, clothes, shoes, hoverboards, bikes, motorcycles, coffeemakers, toasters, furniture, cutlery, guns, bombs (including nuclear and hydrogen, of course), missiles, chemical and biological weapons, tanks, aircraft carriers, battleships, destroyers, submarines, computers, microwave ovens, stoves, furnaces, real estate, parking lots and garages, refrigerators, radios, stereos, TVs, watches, alcohol, drugs, alarm clocks, and so on.  I could go on and on, but the sad truth is that almost EVERYTHING is worth more to meat eaters than the lives of the animals they eat.  Actions speak louder than words.