I’m sitting here at my laptop with a old Opie & Anthony show from Youtube on low volume playing in the background as my brain remains stuck in park unable to move at all whatsoever. Numerous times of trying to catch thought bubbles using a fishing rod with silence, music, and walking around in circles talking and thinking to myself as bait usually would be the key two days prior before I had to sit down and write my weekly post. It would kick in just time around Saturday as if I was on my last second shot in a NBA championship game. Pressure for me is a legal drug or motivation to help finish a weekly goal of completing a thought before the terrible Monday’s kick in, and remind myself how much I hate my job, boss, and the fact that people in power are no different than people dressing up as Gods in roleplay cosplay thinking they are as powerful as the costumes they wear. Point is, writers block this is not, but more so something else as I feel myself becoming more and more indifferent to my own path of trying to find a objective truth, in a world which subjective truth is the only game in town to really play. 

When you grow up, they say you have to set a example for the younger kids coming up so they can learn from yours and others mistakes and do better, or, at least not travel down the same road. The kids are the future that have a chance to change the course of  direction of how things used to be and what is currently going on in present time so, it would be best if the older crowd could set a example and path of what step to move towards. I get that trust me I do but, sometimes man, deep within my core of just that ugly, nasty, dark, and dirt basement center which lies in me is a despicable, green pus filth mix that simply just doesn’t give a fuck.

You see, my medicine became my thinking, while at the same time I feel like its becoming my crack pipe bringing me closer towards a addiction of chasing the next high for the sake of avoiding reality, instead of  it simply becoming a added check mark to the grander picture that is life as a whole. Running in circles instead of me cracking the concrete is what my future theories more and more each time are starting to feel like and, its to the point I have to ask myself what is it that I am in chasing? At least, I am glad that question still lingers as I am starting to see myself creep closer towards indifference about not just the things around me, but, in general just in everything as a whole. 

My indifference back then was one that was more so based in trying to create a comical thread in which the end result was not one of just making people laugh, but more so snatching the attention from whatever they were focused on and instead giving it all to me. I was the rebel that was rebelling against my own shadow in which I could see but not touch nor feel. No point other than to crack a few jokes and make it seem as if though I was as nutty as a squirrel, just so I could capture a few belly aches and funny eye rolls from people that couldn’t tell entertainment from reality. My shield and wall it became while also becoming a car to chase “cool points” quicker instead of having to use my own two feet running at a rapid speeds to complete my hollow goal. That was then but, as of now, my “Don’t give a fuckism” has transitioned into one that has reached a authentic, and nucleus level honesty about it.

Like yesterday I had defeated two young kids in my family at a game of 1 on two basketball and, I have to tell you from the darkest depths of the bottom of my heart, it felt motherfucking great. If I could capture that moment of petty bliss in a picture, Jared Fogle being able to dress up as R.Kelly for Halloween while he chased little girls screaming “Eat fresh!” couldn’t be able to match the coke induced feeling I had last night. To paint a better visual than that previous G rated one, it felt and looked as good as two Brazilian girls in their bra and panties cutting out Family Dollar coupons for me at a kitchen table while my dinner was being made in the background. Frozen pizza with stuff tomato sauce crust and motherfucking Buffalo wings with extra blue cheese on the side. Admitting that is suppose to be wrong. I am suppose to rub the little kid on the head after I let him beat me and go “Good job buddy. Your really getting better” but, I just deep down really didn’t want to. Especially when earlier the little bastard kept kicking me in the knee cap and laughing in my face about it. Now, I was SUPPOSE to be the bigger man and laughed it off while saying “Oh you little rascal! Ha ha. You stop that” but, deep within my core, I wanted to kicked this little fuck down a flight of concrete steps until he landed in a swimming pool of hornets nests.

That’s wrong. Very wrong but, my thing is even in expression and gut feeling who says what I am FEELING is wrong? Like, the moment when the little kid had the ball and he released to take a shot over me, I seen the happiness in his eyes. I felt his spirit lift higher than the bathtub levels of Whitney Houston’s and Bobby Brown’s daughter. I seen his eyes wide in excitement as he let the ball become free from his little hands as I could tell his confidence level in this shot was at a all time high. I seen all this within a span of seconds and yet, my “mature switch” flick off as I rose MUCH higher than his release and blocked his shot directly into the bushes. The look of defeat in his eyes if I had to be honest made my nipples just a ting bit hard. The tears that came off his face if I could, I would place it in a ice tray, freeze it, and use it as ice cubes as I had a drink with a cup that says “My cousin’s tears” on it. If given the chance, I would use his tears and pour it on a ice skating ring as I smiled skating all over his pain for a hour. Deep down to help out another man in pain, I would of used his tears and gave it to a miserable married man so he can save money on lube to fuck his nagging wife so she could shut the fuck up and let her man watch a game of Football in peace. Now, I am sure at this point halfway through that visual masterpiece I manage to lose a bunch of followers from my social media pages due to that mini rant that sounded psychotic, irrational, crazy, and just down right loony tunes but my thing is: Why? and, to whom’s authority?. 

(Don’t worry. Video will end at the 17:40 mark)

I feel like indifference, context, and honesty has become more so a brand than a actual movement in which the reasons behind it are genuine and real. I don’t wish any psychological damages to be done to my little cousin over a silly game of basketball just as I don’t wish any physical harm towards anyone at all. My thing is, what happen to simply feeling how I feel without needing to cover it up over a ton of horse shit and sprinkle colorful glitter all around it labeled as the truth?

Sometimes I have conversations with a female family member in which they are older than me and, at exactly 8 or 10 seconds into her speaking, I want to desperately, and violently tell her to please “Shut the fuck up”. I begin to have a battle within myself as I play a sick game of tug of war doing my best job not to let my crayola color mix of word vomit spew out in chucks over her and the empty directionless conversation. When dealing with situations such as that, I feel like I am walking around in my Batman suit all day sweating worse than a Comedian seeing Eazy-E’s daughter dressed in a Magic Johnson jersey at a front row in a comedy show, as he fought to urge not to say something due to fear of being jumped by either the Bloods or Crips because of  the decade loyalty to one of their LA’s own. I want to strip away the Batman suit as well as the Bruce Wayne costume and let my inner Patrick Bateman come out to play.

Yet, I can’t due to some magical social contract in which we all agreed to follow and cut the balls off of how we truly feel deep inside. I see it all around me and its why I love those moments of chaos in which a fight verbally breaks out between two people or even a group. I love it not because I want to see someone get hurt, but more so I love it because it cuts through the bullshit and shows how someone really feels about another person. To go further with that like I talked about here, here, here as well, and basically in every No Filter post I ever created is, I want to just reach that fire in which can’t be touched but instead only seen and felt and let it be released or, more so, let others be able to express it like a annual “Sexual Harassment” day on a higher level in which the dirtbag that we all are deep inside can come out to play. I wouldn’t mind even if all the 2015 cops and even cops from the past came out and just said look: 

“When I see a black man that even looks slightly suspicious, something in me wants to just shoot him down in the street like that gang member that he probably is and get away with it Scott free. Oh and, yes, I do love using the word Nigger too. I brush my teeth with Nigger toothpaste.  I drink Nigger rade before every workout. Hulk Hogan, I don’t know what you did wrong because, I too refuse to raise a Nigger loving daughter. Number 12 is my favorite letter to hear  in the alphabet from a kid with a stuttering problem. Die nigger die.    ” 

Sure, he would then more than likely get fired and proceed to get the shit kicked out of him if any black man ever caught him walking down the street, but, at least he was honest before it happened. Same thing even with women to continue this stream of conscience today, I wouldn’t mind even if a chick just came right out and said look: 

“Yes. I suck dick and I mean I suck a whole lot of dick. I enjoy anal, getting roughed around like a piece of ass, nut on my face, and I still want you to respect me afterwards and hopefully allow me to kiss my boyfriend in public without judgment, I don’t want any bullshit from him as more than likely he will not be receiving the same kind of sex I give to men that actually turn me on. I want him to stay in his place and know his role as the real bitch in the relationship. An no in case you haven’t figured it out, I don’t give a fuck if the baby turns out to be his or not. That doesn’t matter” 

Now, as far as there being any long term relationship with that particularly honest women that probably more than likely wouldn’t happen. Though, I would respect her honesty in being blunt without shame or guilt on her part. Now, I say this not to bash women because every post I do on game, relationships, and women is not one of vicious and malice verbal assault, its more so one based on reaching the truth and core of this game we both play. Which each new theory I read or create myself I find myself circling around back to cutting the BS out and just getting straight to the dirty point. Why does me as a man and you as a woman have to play these games in order to come to a understanding that I want some pussy and you just want some dick? Not just with me but more so in general between men and women. 

Granted, I know you as a woman seek out a relationship because its in your nature, but why present your “Most difficult self” first just so I can crawl through barb wire to realize the only thing left at the end of the bloody battle was pussy, and reckless usage of power with no direction other than to drive and drive some more towards nowhere? Why do us as men have to put on this act and lie to you when deep down, our best self is something we want to save to see if you earn it. Pussy should be the first weapon a woman use while a man’s best self should be the last weapon that he uses if she is cool enough to earn a title (Girlfriend) or ring (Marriage). Its lying going on, on both sides and both sides end up hurt due to both men and women not using indifference, honesty, and context as truth instead of it as a brand to be sold and gain profit from it with no true purpose other than to win, and because that is what you are “suppose” to do to make her or him happy.  







A lot to say for someone who’s brain was stuck in park for the majority of the weekend. Anyway in closing, my main point of this latest post today was reaching down to the dirt and maggots which lies buried in us as I try daily to find a way to communicate it without being seen as some crazy person seeking attention. I give guys like Eminem, Patrice O’neal, Bill Burr, The Joker character from the “Dark Knight”, and many others credit for helping me be able to look pass the facade that I once used to view the world and be able to instead create a dialogue in which I can look at things from more than one angle. 

I see basic thinking in most of everywhere and, I say that not to sound as if I am better than anyone, smarter than anyone, more educated than anyone, etc, I say that because it is what it is. Videos like this would be laughed at and seen as retarded to the general public as they and even myself still in some cases have been conditioned to look at things in one way instead really thinking outside of the box and saying: “Eh. Lets try and see it from this POV for once”. I see more grips on holding onto power instead of really trying to view the world in a “ocean” though process and instead keep everyone trapped in a “water bottle” one. Which, to some extent I get it and to some extent I don’t. I am not out to hurt people or want a free pass to cause another person harm in any way shape or form. I just sometimes feel the need to just say “I don’t give a fuck. Now pass me another beer and get the fuck out of my face”. Is it just me? Am I crazy for just not caring sometimes? Is my next outfit a straight jacket? Who knows. They’ll judge me anyway whether I am right or wrong. Anyway, thank you for your time as always. Apologies for this rant style post. More new theories on life, game, women, and people are on the way. A venting session is just needed once in while. 







Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s