I wish I had something worth mentioning over these past 13 days. Its not as if something happens on a daily basis worth mentioning, but hey...? Why not. I'm completely absorbed in the dark, lazy neurosis of Dog Fashion Disco. They tell me stories about life, death, sex, drugs, and the human condition. Every day has either been full of rain and misery or school and work. Sunshine is chilly by some ironic twist and the dark and headache inducing assignments have begun to pile up in the rush of finishing in time for May. But hey, once May is done and I've a week of general nothingness, its time for 60 hour paychecks and hording my earnings like a deranged pack rat. At least, the prospect of having money to spend over the summer time will be worth every grueling hour and every asshole who chances into the store with their piss poor attitudes and mutual disdain for one another. This is not to say that every individual is a monster, no, of course not.

I've actually encountered routine customers who have given me high praise and compliments on my appearance. This is startling and I am unaccustomed with taking compliments outside of bashfully saying, "Thank you" over and over again. I'm modest, but hell. It took me 20 years, 8 of which have been rotting in a prepubescent hell of feeling ugly up and until this point. Cocoon and butterfly? I think not. It wasn't nearly as curious, pleasant, or oddly interesting as having thirty-year-old men asking me through the drive through window as to whether or not I enjoyed pain and expecting an honest answer. As honest as I was, it was unsavoury.

This introduces a new problem. What do you do when your physical image is more appealing to the general populace? Essentially, I'd like to flip them all off and cherish the few people who have always liked me regardless of my weight, my lack of make up, or what have you. Its comfortable feeling content in my own skin for the first time, don't get me wrong. But to let it morph my soul and my aspirations? That's the very aspect of inhumanity fed and fueled by the media's burning aspiration's to portray stick figures instead of actual women /fatchick rant (Aha.) Its true that women of my figure and beyond do use these excuses to justify their curves and their indulgences; but these excuses never really worked for me and I was never happy so I took measures in the hands of health and justified my reasons by taking to what most would consider an extreme. I'll never have a normal digestive system again, but... I'm beginning to feel like the next 20 years will be the best of my entire life. Isn't that what's most important? Enjoying the skin you're trapped in and hoping someone can see through it to get to the depths of your soul? Poetry isn't my forte. I don't make this shit up and I guarantee you can find this level of whining on anyone's internet connection and countless blogs, livejournals, and other no good excuses for rant halls.

I'd like to thank Dr. House this week for putting things into perspective, or the writers of House M.D. if we're to be specific. I can't even begin to elabourate on the idea that "nothing is meaningful" outside of personal definition. Bullshit and whine about relativity if it pleases you, but its one of those few absolute truths I can say is worth mentioning. (This makes it a goddamn paradox!

Inspiration has been running chaotically all over the place for the past few days. I've been shuffling story ideas, characters, considering subtle deviations of normal structures and writing an incessant amount of notes while supposed to be listening adamantly to the poetry of Yeats and D.H. Lawrence. Don't get me wrong, I like D.H. Lawrence. But other matters have consumed my present interests without so much a brief hesitation of whether or not I'll find any sanity left. I've a lot to plan for in June and already took the Thursday to Thursday off. I'm hoping by this evening as well to get the Dean of Academic Affairs all of the required information needed in order to say, "LOOK AT ME OXFORD". I doubt I'll be able to afford it and they're somehow expecting roughly $1,500 dollar deposit by April 13. Yeah, okay. I'm just concerned that if I send this money and it arrives late, they won't send it, they won't accept me, and they'll just horde my money like the bastards they are. The fiends. If anything I might inquire as to whether or not I can take a loan for this entire excursion. Its damn well worth it.

But in lighter news, JUNE. Yes, June, June, June. I love June. I'm looking forward to every bit of June or at least the parts that will involve AnimeNEXT and dressing up. I've only two months left to consider what to cosplay or if I'm just going to buy some eccentric dress and go as myself only slightly off-key. Either way, the underlying experience there has a multitude of meanings. The Great Jinx will be landing in New Jersey, for instance. I'm both nervous and exasperated over the idea. But hey, if he can put up with me blabbing on the phone for hours on end and still manage to think I'm somewhat awesome, then why worry? Ah, yes, physical awkward silences and other pressing matters of borderline craziness. I'm sure we'll get by, right? The most severe of my concerns now reside around my Survey of British Literature II term project with the head of the English Department as my professor. Oh. Dear. God. An entire project, likely consisting of twenty or more slides while talking and discussing the depths of Gothic Literature and Development of a Mass Readership all while trying to focus on one solitary aspect?! If anything, I'll focus on Emily Bronte, a few other works, and discuss, primarily, the ideal ghost story. Hell, I'll even drag up Henry James and bullshit about the psychological captivation the governess endures in thinking she has seen the ghosts of child-molesters. Oh yeah. Total fucking awesome. If I can manage a 'B' in the class, I will be excessively happy. Overjoyed, even.

As for other more pressing matters, until the summer ends I will be banning myself from going out to the movies. The Drive-In is fine, because its the BEST THING EVER to do on a summer day and with nothing else in mind, a great way to spend time with friends and family alike. Money must be conserved, dammit! Its not like its going to start falling from the sky and I'm not the sort of person to spend countless days pining over the lottery in all of its evils. Otherwise, life is admittedly good. My perception on the world has sharpened and there's little to complain about other than to organize my thoughts and insure that I don't wind up in a mad panic come April 22 at the time that damn term project is due. The venom I have for such a massive project is enough to make me nauseous. But if you must know, since its habitual for me to do so in these past few weeks of rotting my brain at the theatre, I have to admit, I Love You, Man was hilarious. Why? I have no idea. I think its because my love for Paul Rudd randomly being an excellent actor and suddenly not a cynical, bland, quiet, and disgruntled character is startling to see and hence, I loved it. Paul Rudd, you're the total win. This is not to say that I did not like him in Role Models. I've just come to expect directors to type cast him as such! Hurray for challenging expectations and jamming to Rush with that other dude whom I apologetically CANNOT recall the name of for my life.

Its a beautiful day, so. I'm going to stop here and take lazy ass outside to bask in sunshine and pretend I'll get a healthy bit of colour. I can't play vampire all goddamn year, now can I?

I can't help myself sometimes. The title is just too cute to ignore and sounds like a necropheliac's screen name. Nevertheless, there's a lot of good things that have happened over the weekend to keep me mildly distracted. Work, for instance, is a festering blob of doom. I say this with enthusiasm, of course. I have never encountered such a motley group of patients before in my life... just as I have never felt so inspired to become a mortician or perform autopsies in some bio-genetic thirst for knowing why mankind can be so goddamn stupid. Here's a funny concept; if you find yourself perplexing a location to have your prescription called in by your doctor who confuse a simple letter, inadvertantly fucking up your entire name to us timid pharmacy technicians, then why yell at us? We're technicians. We do not take these calls! We cannot help it if your doctor cares about you the way he cares about used toilet paper circling his golden toilet! This is a common health crisis and I wish I could play like everyone else and retain an air of ignorance and general stupidity.

Perhaps then, throughout it all, I'd be able to stomach how ass-backwards these things operate. Human beings are about as vital to corporations as any other above mentioned allegory. You're shit to them. As long as you feed them their coin, continue to get sick, and pay overpriced medical bills for some jackass peeking in on you while you're comatose, then really! How wonderful the world must seem! Ah, Canada... your universal health care is a sexy thing. For all the money falling expended to bail out every goddamn company whose buried themselves in greed, you would think it somewhat plausible for this money to go to those who need it; the sick and elderly. But oh! Avast! Wait! Hark! We would all be raging, socialists for even suggesting this ludicrous bullshit. And why do I care? Well, I don't. But that tiny little voice, that sublime shred of humanity ticking away in my head demands compensation for the lives of others. Not to worry, I'm more than positive cynicism will win and I'll forget about complaining this much tomorrow.

Also, props to Nicholas Cage in Knowing. I was surprised by how much I enjoyed the movie and was quite happy with how it ended. The religious elements, which will not be disclosed in its entirety here, were outstandingly universal and spread not just to some writer's Christian ethics but to several creation stories involving a man and a woman in the new beginnings. Yay. Revelations is bound to fuck us up if any of that trite stuff is for real... in fact, all the cryptic fire and brimstone nonsense can be found in that section of the New Testament. Not to mention naked women, monsters, the devil, angelic battles, sacrifices, plagues, death, hunger! And you kids prefer reading about Bella's spine breaking as she gives birth to a dead man's baby as it destroys her uterus and then becomes a shiny vampire. Oh goodness. Really. As far as I'm concerned, vampires are DEAD. And hence, STERILE. UNABLE TO MAKE THE GOOD JUICES FLOW.

I want this craze to die. Its making my cheesey horror novels look talented and invigorating. And that is something quite disconcerting. Complaining won't do shit, but... its enjoyable.

The reason this blog has been inactive for so long is that its user ran away and has yet to be found. We remain searching but as of today, little results have been found and "Havoc" is presumed to be deceased.

Oh please. Like I ever updated this enough for online friends to buy that bad April Fool's pun for even a second. Oh well, it can't be helped. There's a lot of things to update on since I last scribbled myself across these pages, so to begin a more day-to-day update of whatever it is I've reason to blog about, be it politics, humanities, the deprivation of society, or just how awesome my Shakespeare class is from day to day. I've lost roughly sixty pounds in three months and have been stuck at this weight for the past two weeks courtesy of beginning to exercise and build muscle. Either way, my confidence is seeing better days and I have a much more advantageous perception of how the world works. Its safe to dream while you can, while you're branded young and stupid by everyone. Sure, I get poked and prodded at enough by doctors lately but who doesn't? Just suck it up now, get to a normal body weight, i.e., in shape, and then all this shit will inevitably go away. If it takes a year or two? Oh well. I'm making myself healthy so if by some ungodly opportunity I find immortality nestled in the bullshit waves of insomnia I play every night, I may as well look rocking.

Recent movies? Two worth mentioning. Let The Right One In and The Haunting in Connecticut. I enjoy films like this for several reasons. One, because the first makes the Twilight kids die inside in contrast to being exposed to what a real vampire is and the second because it brings back memories of old-school horror movies, back when it wasn't about mindless slaughter. The first film, originally in Swedish, and viewed with English subtitles follows the story of a young boy named Oscar who is terrorized by his classmates and generally isolated from the rest of the world. He views his divorced parents with obvious contempt outside of what little happiness he can muster in their presence. Eventually this is crossed all together when he encounters Eli, an unusual person of strange beauty and an even stranger fixation with tearing out throats. The story, as I later learned came from a book that's now sitting eagerly on my dad's shelf demands attention and more bullshitting about its greatness will be had as soon as its my turn to read it.

And secondly, The Haunting in Connecticut which based on some internet googling and research-pillaging is based on some semblance of a true story. This traditionally told ghost story dealing with a house where malicious presences invaded it out of revenge amplifies the old fixations people had with mediums and spirit guides to a truly grisly and macabre fashion. The scares were excellently done and while clinging to the pretty cross-dresser at my right served for some mild protection against the doom-ridden hell that was being shone on screen, the dull-minded swarm of others around us were likewise screaming and flailing like a school girl seeing a flasher's penis. The point is, it was an excellent movie and I was relatively surprised over this throw-back to old-school horror flicks the likes that reminded me of Rosemary's Baby and Amityville Horror.

New music? Gpkism, Polkadot Cadaver, The Reverend Horton Heat, Bad Acid Trip... just to name a few. The Jinx is feeding me music-candy and I think I adore him for it. <3 Until next time, I'm sure something will explode hard enough to warrant discussion.