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The Devil You Know: Inside the mind of BlisteredBlood

Friday Evening,
May 13th, 2016

So. I haven't written here in a while. A lot of things happened, some of which are the most obvious reasons. I've been running up and down this whole damn state, so that isn't much of a surprise. Of course, I've also been keeping tabs on my mom, even if there are times when she drives me a bit berserk. Nothing new there.

But, what caught my eye as of recently was the fact that someone at the old folks home went into my mother's room and took something from her as it was reported on her Facebook page. Soon as I saw this, I immediately went over to her place the following day and demanded answers for it. The thing that went missing from her room was this very lovely bracelet that I got her for Christmas. A Hallmark charm bracelet, no less. One that had things like "Mom" on a heart, had little gems here and there, that kinda shit?

So I went over to one of the nurses, pulled her over to the side and started asking questions and demanded that something be done about this, because if I had to get the cops involved, I would. No one does anything like that and thinks they can get away with it. I don't care about patient privledges and whatever, that doesn't excuse anybody for stealing something that doesn't belong to them! Period!

But... It's out of my hands as of now. Much as I hate to say it, but it's true. At the same time, I hate the fact that all my mom is doing is just sitting around waiting for the same person to swing back and continue to rob her blind. If she's not going to pull the trigger on this, I will step in and get involved and I'll bet you dollars to doughnuts that nobody's gonna like me for it, but when it comes to my mother, you only get one shot to get it right or you can back the fuck off and get someone else more qualified.

But moving on.

What am I doing with my life as it stands as of right now? I feel as though that the one hobby I enjoy more than ever - this playing video games - has been turning into a job, where I punch in at a certain time, go in and do what needs to be done, get the gear, go here, finish up a few loose ends there and then move onto the next job, do some favors along the way, and all that. I want to be able to play my games without getting herranged into some hairbrained... whatever it is and just forget about everything for a while. But no, I just can't seem to do that. Everything's gotta be at a breakneck speed, but people have got to understand that I'm not a machine, goddammit!

...Wait. I went off about this before, but the same logic applies here, so I'll just echo what I said then.

When I said that I have very little patience, an extremely low tolerance for stupid bullshit and absolutely no drive, I think I meant it.
 
Late Night,
June 3rd, 2016


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wx0oK35Ow8U


Laugh at me if you must because I posted this here - plus it has two Undertale characters - but this animation brings up an interesting sense of duality within the context of this particular cover by Any Given Day.

But in any case, it's time to talk.

So. Halfway through 2016. And still nothing to show for it. But perhaps my brother had a great point to raise that I needed to get my ass back out there instead of just sitting back and letting things go by. Because yeah, I've about had it with this sitting on my ass and waiting for things to happen when I should be out there getting shit done by myself while at the same time also doing something to help these guys out here. I'd rather not get involved with dealing in pot since the whole legality thing is still sort of up in the air at the moment, but the point is still the same. What I need more than ever is money in my pocket. Maybe then I'll feel better about myself when I can look at my brother and say, "Yeah, I'll come out and hang out with you guys!" because to be frank with you, I've been getting out a lot these days. But more often than not, it's only to run favors. I haven't gone out to just relax since July of... Well. that year.

And speaking of relaxing. Jesus Christ and the Latter-Day Saints people, I'm getting MIGHTY SICK AND TIRED of having to be pulled into games I don't feel like playing right now. I may have gotten the Heart of Thorns expansion of GW2, but already, I'm regretting it more and more with each and every second I've spent. And here, I thought that I could actually enjoy a game. Not turn it into a 9-5 job. Yes, I know I need coins in order to buy better shit. I know I need to buy gems to get even better shit, too. WHAT I DON'T NEED TO DO IS TO WASTE EVERY SECOND OF MY LIFE ON IT. This was the same mentality that's making me regret playing Blade & Soul and it's going to make me feel the same way with this one, I swear to fucking god.

I just can't take this nonsense anymore. Like I can't call out sick, no matter what I try to do. Hell, I can't even get on Skype without getting herranged into something nonsensical. I know I got projects I gotta do, but I can't do it if I'm getting stressed out to the point where I feel like harpooning a baby beluga whale with the broken horn of a unicorn.

Either that, or maybe I'm just tired and in need of sleep. I don't know. I just need to let my mind relax after everything.

That's all for now. I'll ramble some more later.
 
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Late Night,
June 11th, 2016


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LjmZBGcEWKs


I'd like for this video to set the tone for what I'm about to say.

I admit to the fact that yes, there are times when I do seem spacey. It's not as if I do this all the time. If I don't say anything about it, then maybe there's a reason for it. Most times, people would get the hint for those of you who've known me for as long as you have. Some of you have known me for some time. Some of you may have known me for quite a while. Others I may have been friends with for years. A lot of you would usually get some form of cue that perhaps, there might be a time when I'm not in one of those bright and cheery moods that I'm always in. Yes. I admit to the fact that I have those moments - quite a lot of them actually - where my brain just decides to pick certain occasions to just shut itself off.

Yesterday was such a day. On June 10th, 2000, I served as a paubearer for my grandmother's funeral. So yes, I buried my grandmother. As did my mother, my father, my brother, one of my cousins and one of my uncles.

So excuse me if I didn't message you to let you know I was having one of those off days where maybe I'll say one thing and then completely space out on the rest of it. Excuse me if my life doesn't revolve around Guild Wars 2. Excuse me if my life doesn't revolve around Discord. Excuse me if my life doesn't revolve around you. Excuse me if I seem like that I'm holding you back in some way or another because that yes, I do get depressed - and when I do, I completely shut the fuck off - and excuse me if I don't jump to you whenever you snap your goddamn fingers unlike everybody else who you've got wrapped around your fucking finger.


Disclaimer! Not anyone here or anyone in general! I'm just venting because I'm pissed off!​

You see, unlike you, those of you who have all those things that are hand delivered to you or whatever? You with the good job of sitting on your ass while whoever your significant other is slaving his or her ass off while you just sit there playing around with some people on a game, no less?

I have nothing. I still have a family to go and see practically every single day. I have to get out on those goddamn buses, listen to the bullshit at the bus stops - barely since I usually have my headset on cranking out shit like you see here - get harranged by people if i have a cigarette or spare 50 cents for someone to get something to eat, drink, shit like that. I have to deal with shit like this every single day of my life. I'm sorry if I don't have that flashy lifestyle like you do. No. I don't have piles of money. I don't. I don't have a Swiss bank account. I don't have a Maserati. I'm not listed on the Forbes' list of wealthy people. I'm surely not George Clooney during the 1990s, I can tell you that.

No. I'm Joe Blow. I have nothing. I'm homeless last I checked, living with my brother who I have to use his house as a mailing address for since I can't trust my cousin Dawn for jack shit since she decided to fuck us over for the mail which contained a recertification for our food stamps. Yet, I can't even trust these shady motherfuckers around here since if I did have something like that mailed here, it'd probably get stolen!

Video games are not a part of my life. Yes, I play them alot. Sometimes, I play too much of them. I sometimes get a little bit invested into it. But I'm not willing to spend over half of my day and night playing one game out of the hundreds I could be playing right now with just you. But if you wanna be a cunt about the simple fact that I was having a shitty day today because of the fact that I was bummed out because of the fact I was reminded of the fact that it's been 16 years since I buried my grandmother, then what kind of friend are you?

Then again, maybe you won't care. No, you'll just forget the fact that I have a life outside of video games as you usually seem to forget these days. A shitty life, for sure, but it sure is better than having the life you do.

So yeah. I'm sorry that I held you up. I'm sorry that I forgot about you. I'm sorry if I left you alone with some asshole who you clearly despise every time he opens up his fat yap. I'm sorry about the fact that I have to be the one who has to listen to read you bitching to me about his inability to shut the fuck about everything he says, I'm even sorry about the fact that you have to put up with it.

But you know what? You should've known this about me when you decided to become friends with me all those years ago. You should've known. But no. Your dumb, ignorant ass was all too high and mighty to figure that out. So you know what? How about you kiss my ass for once and fuck off? I'm sick of having to listen to you complain to me every single time. I'm tired of having to walk around eggshells as far as you're concerned. I'm tired of the fact that every time I screw up even something so minor it's forgettable, I'm tired of having to explain myself every single time I mistakenly didn't do something. I'm fucking sick and tired of having to be your fucking punching bag for everything that I did wrong.

Just because I'm the one who doesn't have your life or whatever else you have should not excuse you from not understanding my position. No, everything has to be seen from your perspective all the goddamn time. I've tried it. And you know what, I have have several questions if I may be so bold to ask.

How in the fuck have you maintained the friendships that you've had? How is it that you've even held a job? How is it that you've even had all that you had? Then again, it's better that I don't ask. God forbid if I have to hear another one of those goddamned stories again.

You sicken me, that's what you do. You sicken me every single time I hear you speak. You sicken me every time I even load up Guild Wars 2. That's right. I feel ill just knowing that as soon as I load up Discord, it's going to be another one of those nights where I have to listen to you bitch up a storm. It's also going to be another one of those sleepless nights that I have to spend. But at least I'm not an insomniac.

Yeah. That's right. I may be 31, but there are times when I wind down. I'm not a goddamn machine.

But hey, it's not about what I think, huh? No, fuck what I think. Fuck what I feel. Fuck what I do. Fuck what I have to put up with every single day. Nah. Just fuck everything about me in general. Actually, how about this? Fuck you. No, just fuck you in general. I'm not saying this to be cute. You tell me about perspective all the time, so how about you see through my eyes for once and feel what I feel, see what I see and think what I think?

All I'm saying here is I've had enough of your shit. And if you don't wanna see that, then like I said, I see no point in still being friends with you.

Actually, no. Rant not over. The simple fact that you're getting pissed off at me over a fucking video game is flatout fucking pathetic and people like you deserved to have their heads caved in with a steel-toed, thick soled military boot. Don't you have other hobbies outside of waiting for my ass to pop up? Don't you have other things to do? Get a job. Something! ANYTHING! I'm not on your fucking beckon call! I am not going to snap to your attention all the goddamned time! Hell no! There are times when I want to be left alone, goddammit! I'll fucking snap if I get too crowded! Yes, I admit to that! I get weirded out if I'm in too big of a crowd or I might space out or give somewhat short answers to shit I either don't want to hear about nor do I care about! Sometimes, I won't say anything when I leave a call! But it's not like I'm like Priority One!

Goddammit!

Okay. NOW the rant is over. I'm just sick and tired of listening to this shit each and every single day! But yet, I have to be the one to listen to this garbage every single day! But why do I? Because I care. Sometimes, I care a little too much. And frankly, I'm sick of caring. But yet, I have to. Because I have to be the one to get up, fix myself to some degree and then I have to go out there and dance that phony fucking jig each and every single fucking time. I'm SICK of it. I'm sick of all these people. WHY CAN'T I JUST BE LEFT THE FUCK ALONE?

...Because I can't. No matter how much I want to unplug, I always find out that I have some sort of notification to read. Someone has a video for me to watch. Sometimes I have to go into a game and go play for a while.

Other times? Well, what other times?

You're looking at what I do now. All that's left. I have nothing else. If I don't have this, I'd just as soon end up in jail, dead or dead while in jail.

It's sort of like that one thing I wrote about the definition of insanity. You do the same thing over and over and over and over again, hoping to find that different result. But each and every time, you end up getting the same result over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and...

I think you get the picture.

I think what I'm getting at here is all work and no play make Jack a dull boy.

Sadly, what's become a hobby is starting to become work. Bone-breaking, graveyard shift work. And frnakly, I'm hating it. But yet, I have to be the one to put up with it because I can't learn to separate myself from it long enough. But yet, I can't. I just can't.

And I think that's what I need to do for a while. I just need to be alone for a nice, long while.

But I can't. It's nothing more than a stupid pipe dream that goes nowhere.

A stupid fucking dream. That's all it is. And that's all I am. A stupid fucking dreamer, who's searching for the way. I look for friendship, but want to be alone. I offer insight, but get asked stupid questions. I get people laughing, but pieces of me die every day. I'm happy when I'm really miserable. I'm always hard boiled and grounded in reality, yet I'm about what happens when you give a fully loaded M60 machine gun to someone who's clearly a few sandwiches short of a picnic basket and isn't on any medications for it while Chumbawhumba's playing on a set of earphones that he doesn't have on an MP3 player that doesn't even exist. Or so he believes. In short, I'm a fucking wreck. A bloody, shambling, half crazed wreck that's barely able to stand or walk. Let alone run. But yet, this is all that I know. Just keep one foot in front of the other and keep pressing forward. Don't slow down. Don't give up. Don't let them win. On the other hand, it's like, oh who the fuck cares, go away, I don't wanna hear it, I'm not in the mood, you suck, I don't care, what's the point, I'm tired, shut up, it's not worth it, just go away.

Then again, who knows. Maybe I am insane.

Now would be a good time for me to end this here before I go completely bonkers. That, and I'm also getting tired.

I'll see you next time.
 
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Sunday Afternoon,
June 26th, 2016


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HVTqfJr4Gpk


I look at this song now with a bit of sad fondness now. The reason is because of the fact that life decided to suckerpunch me once more when I wasn't looking. But yet, I also smile, if only a weak one as I look forward to a brighter tomorrow.

Life dealt me a rather shitty hand last week. My mom's back in the hospital again when she was coughing up blood. Turns out when I got there that it was the result of pneumonia, that devil bastard that reared its ugly head once before last year after she took a rather nasty fall which caused her to break a few ribs. But she's in good hands. I just have to put faith and trust in the hands of the skilled doctors and nurses who've spent their entire lives for this purpose, who've spent thousands upon thousands of dollars training them to treat the wounded, mend the broken and heal the sick. This was what they were meant for.

But for three and a half days, I spent waking hour upon waking hour looking after her as she struggled for breath. She's currently doing better now when I took off from the hospital earlier this morning, so at least there's that. Of course, she'll be going for a bronchoscopy at some point, so there's that, too. But as it stands, she's been loaded up on hospital-grade medications and painkillers to at least try to settle her down.

It wasn't a pretty sight.

But even then, it was nothing in comparison to what happened during this. I had gotten a phone call from my mom to let me know she was heading to the hospital, but there was something she said that I didn't catch immediately at first, but when I asked her to repeat it again, I still didn't believe it.

My aunt passed away in her sleep and was found dead four days ago in the morning.

The news was broke to her by my brother, who first told her to remain strong. But as luck would have it, she just fell apart. And I wouldn't blame her. By the same token, I had to remain strong as well, but as I think about it now, it still hurts like hell, yet I just can't bring myself to cry for reasons I don't even know nor can I be bothered to explain as I am too tired to even think.

But what I can say is this. As of this post, I'm going on hiatus. For how long remains a mystery. But I just need time to be with my mom as she'll need me the most to help her. I have no other alternatives. But what I want from you guys is to not worry. I'll be fine. I'm just tired, sad yet angry all at the same time. Just going through the motions like I usually do.

I know this post may seem short, but I'm gonna end this here for right now as I need to sleep. I'll talk to you all at a later date.
 
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Late Night,
August 13th, 2016

Never have I thought in the 31 years that I've been alive for have I felt so stabbed in the back. Never in my 31 years have I felt as though that I've been relegated to a substandard role that my own brother would now turn his back on me the same way that everybody else in my family has done. And yet, I understand how he feels. He feels as though that all that I do is just hang around our mother for money when I should be out there finding work. He understood it's been hard as of recently, but that's neither here nor there. I understand that.

But at the same exact time, I want to punch him so hard in the face. Allow me to ask you the following three questions, brother before I do deck you. Where have you been ever since this shitfest began? What have you been doing? Who have you been with? But I guess that doesn't matter now. You've been with your friends, you've been working your ass off trying to support yourself as well as your wife.

...Or have you?

You're a lying, backstabbing, two-faced, cokeheaded bastard, you know that? And yeah, RJ. I know what you've been doing. I saw it and don't think that I didn't see it nor heard it. Because I saw those little white lines on those same dinner plates we used to eat off of as well as the razorblade near your hand. I've seen the shit you snuck home from your job to sell it off. I recall the things you said when I first got here about six months ago, that there would be scenes of "debauchery", as you put it. I know what you've been doing. And Ronald Joseph Studley, Jr., I am so disappointed in you. You and I were taught at a young age from ma that we would never become a part of even half of the shit you've been doing, and yet, here you are being the biggest hypocrite I've ever met.

Ma told us that we would need each other one day if she were to die on us.

I don't think I ever want to be in the same vicinity as you, because had we not been brothers, I would've done the following. Either A, I would've reported you to the cops right about now. B, I would've bashed your teeth down your throat or C, refer back to B, but I'd do so with a monkeywrench then strangle you to death and choke you again. More than likely, I would've gone with option A since I'm not a violent man. But if things were different? Heh. You wouldn't be standing where you were right now. You're no different than dad was when he was fucking up royally more than... What? Ten years ago? Maybe even 12? Either way, you're no different. You're no different than the man who you so despise and vilify with every ounce of your own being.

So tell me something. Were those tears you shed when ma was in the hospital in a coma last year all for nothing? You were scared shitless because you thought for sure she was going to die. Or more to the point, if that was me in that bed all tubed up and rendered comatose, would you even feel the same way? Or perhaps it's all an act? I know you're a busy guy, RJ. I know you do what you gotta do to make sure you got your own head above water, but allow me to make this perfectly fucking crystal clear. When me and ma were homeless, you were nowhere to be found, aside from being in Illinois with your wife. You would come back for a while, yes. But that was it. You were there for only a while. Then when the shit hit the fan, you tucke your tail and ran while you left me and ma high and fucking dry, leaving me to be the man of the house and take care of her while you left to go cavort around however you pleased. That time she was in the hospital last year was one of those few times I saw you. I had already shed my tears and soon after, I had to be strong for her. But that was the thing between you and me. Instead of running away, I had to man up and be there when it mattered the most. I was on the brink of falling apart and you WERE NOWHERE TO BE FOUND.

And you know what? What about that time when I was down in Westerly, separated from her while she was laid up in the hospital, huh? I still had to get up in the morning, get out of the shelter for the day and meander around a town I had no idea of how to navigate unless if I found certain landmarks just to discern where the fuck I was. But that was the thing, RJ. If there wasn't buses around, I had to use my legs and feet to get to my destination. But yet, RJ, my legs and feet aren't as good as they used to be. I mean sure, I lost about 80 pounds over a six month period of sometimes eating and sometimes not eating or even not eating as much, but I can still admit it that my own body has been breaking down. But even then, I still had to get back. Better yet, when I was out in North Providence, wishing the Black Plague would wipe out a certain nameless, gormless and brainless fucking dolt and her two hellspawns she calls her kids, where were you? Or how about that time when I was in East Providence and while there were ome good times there, there were other times when it wasn't as good, like when Tony's ex was coming around more often than she should've and started asking me questions that I didn't feel comfortable enough answering. Sure, I ate okay. But yet, my way was always paid. This has been the same thing as those other times. Yes, ma has helped me out. But I have never asked for more than I could hold. The simple fact that you stand there, accusing me of essentially robbing our mother blind is a fucking insult and you have no proof backing it up, especially since you were the fucking moron who tapped out her bank account to begin with not once, but fucking TWICE.

All for what, I ask? A motorcycle that you're fixing up? That beat-up Dodge POS pickup truck? Your pot? Your coke? Other things that you shouldn't be doing? You know, there's one word that comes to my head right now that makes all the sense in the world. You know what that one word is?

Cunt.

You're a massive fucking cunt for all of the wrong reasons. I mean, I knew you were an asshole long ago and I had every right to be angry with you then, but now? I don't even care if I ever see you again even after ma's long dead and gone, because as soon as that happens, I'm out of here and I want NOTHING to do with you ever.

Most I'll do is wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors, but you sure as hell ain't getting any sympathy from me when your shit hits the fan next and something tells me, it's going to be pretty soon from how you and I spoke in the truck on the way back from ma's when we got her shit out of the old folks' home a few days ago.

And I hope it does. If not now, then somewhere down the line.

All I asked for six months ago was a place to stay. I didn't think I'd be here this long either, but no one could've predicted the fact that ma would be here with us, too because of the fact that one of Chad's creditors would be looking for basically all of ma's SSI money for the time she was there for. I never wanted this to happen either. But yet, it did. Ma said she would handle it on her own and to be honest, I trust her. So why don't you? Matter of fact, let me answer one of those questions you've been meaning to ask me regarding as to why I've been hanging around with ma more often these days. Because I'm nigger enough to be there when it counted and I have not asked her for more than I could, therefore giving your accusation no ground to stand on since all you've been doing has been nothing more than a bold-faced lie. I ask maybe for at least no more than 10 to 20 dollars and that's it, compared to the 200 to 500 dollars you asked her for. If anything, I'm fucking cheap compared to you. More importantly, I'm not a hazzer, as the Jewish people put it.

Those of you who are not familar with the term or haven't seen the 1980 movie Scarface should see it and then you'll get the idea. But for those of you not in the know, the term hazzer is a Yiddish term for a pig who doesn't fly straight. And neither does he.

I maybe have done my dirt too, but never once have I left ma high and dry like you did, RJ. No. I stuck it out when it mattered the most and I still do even now, despite it feels like I'm walking on eggshells, a similar feeling I got when I was in North Providence. Of course, the neighborhood out there was a slight bit more pleasant than here in Woonsocket, but who the hell am I to say?

I hate being here. I hate this town. I hate this area. I hate the people. More importantly RJ...

I hate you. I hate you for who you are. I hate you for what you've become. I hate you for your lies.

I just hate you.

And when I leave RJ with ma or not, I want you to know one thing.

I never want to speak to you for as long as I live. Ever.
 
Monday Night,
August 22nd, 2016

Sometimes I think there has to come a time when I can just sit back and relax for a while. Unfortunately, I don't for see such a thing happening as of right now.

So all I can do for right now is to just keep going for as long as possible. Keep moving forward. No matter how much pain you're in. Push through the pain. You can get some aspirin for it later once you're done. But you're not done. Not until the day is done.

So, I have no other alternative but to torture myself to the breaking point and just when I think I've had enough, something reminds me that there's still more to do. But I know there comes a time when my limit's coming up faster and faster with each and every day that passes.

I'm not going to lie when I say that somehow, my left hip feels like I got punched there. I can't even stretch my left leg out fully without it feeling like something wants to pop out.

Great. Add that to the mountain of shit I gotta deal with.

But hey, at least I can still walk. Can't run worth a fuck, but again, I can still walk. So there's that.

In other news, I had to put my laptop in pawn for right now. Got $110 for it. Gotta eat somehow. Least I know how to haggle, since the guy there wanted to give me $100 originally. I thought about $125. Hey, money's money. Of course, I could've been a smartass and met him in the middle and asked for $112.50, but I didn't feel like gambling on another two dollars. There comes a time when you have to cut your losses and move on.

But the crazy thing was that it was a weekend, the buses were running like ass and on top of this, I had my mom along with me with her walker. There was no way in hell she was going to keep up with me, since she ended up telling me to get ahead of her and haul ass, because that pawn shop closes at 4:00 sharp.

I would get there at around two minutes later... Only to find the place was still open and people were still inside. The guy inside at the counter grinned at me saying, "Hey! You made it!"

Meanwhile, I'm trying to catch my breath after ducking between traffic - thought about doing a Bo Duke Slide over someone's hood - and charging up that hill at a dead sprint. Motherfucker, I oughta slap him for that.

But no. Went in, did what needed to be done, got my money and went out to go get some smokes, took ma out for Chinese food and tonight, it's hamburgers. Took every last penny I had, but I didn't get thanked for it all. Not from my brother, at least.

Pfft. The less he knows about how I got the money, the better.

But, at least some time soon, I'll have that back and be in our new home in the same time frame. Hopefully.

But for now, I need to relax. I've done enough running around for tonight. I'll talk more later.
 
Ronald Joseph Studley, Jr., you have NO idea of how badly I want to punch you right square in the mouth right now. You chickenshit, fuckheaded, stoner cuntswab.

I hate you. Do you understand me? I HATE YOU.

And when this is over, you and I never speak. Go be with your wife. Run away, like you've always done. Just run as far away from here as you can and don't you dare come back, because I promise you, that if you were to ever come anywhere near Rhode Island, that I will beat you within an inch of your ill-gotten life, you slackjawed piece of filth.

Fuck you, Ronald. FUCK YOU.
 
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Tuesday Night,
August 30th, 2016


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wa3qqfgp1Ns


I think I may have found my own little piece of serenity tonight. This song, plus sitting out there on the beach - or as I had done in the past, gone out to the docks out on Goat Island - put my feet up, close my eyes and hushed my mouth as I listened to this one song on repeat, over and over.

And it's funny. It's a feeling that I hadn't felt in what could easily be described as "years", despite that this has been the most aggravating six months that I've been out here for in Woonsocket. It's a wonderful feeling, where for just that moment, that right moment, you can just sit back, take in the sights, the sounds and just forget about the troubles of the world, block out the negativity and just surrender yourself to the sounds of the waves, the droning voices that I guess you can call lyrics, steel guitars, bass guitar and the gentle pounding of that... Well, it's not a bass drum or a bongo - I think it is - but it's one of those drums. I know it is, but I just can't think of it right now.

More like I don't want to think. I just want to feel. And right now, all I feel is nothing but complete and total calmness. Like the world has stopped for a while, y'know?

Either that, or I'm on one hell of a pot trip. But not really. I'll leave that shit to my brother, since he seems to value that a lot more.

Nah. Not even worth it to keep talking about him. Not even worth it to talk about anybody or anything. I don't even want to talk about how a few days ago at around 5:30 in the morning, my mother woke me up having trouble breathing and her telling me to get an ambulance, the fact that my brother blew a shitfit at her saying, that he didn't sign up for this then got pissed at me for moving his pot into the kitchen before giving it back to him and then him slamming the door in my face and uttered these words, "Do what you gotta do, Danny." I don't even want to describe the amount of animosity that I had for him in that moment when I was in the ambulance, pondering what it is that I wanted to do to him for him basically running off like a coward while I was left alone to deal with the medical team that went to the wrong house first then led them up to her ma, watched as she fought for breath before taking her down the steps and then brought her into the back, where they had to put a CPAP mask on her.

No. I needed some form of moderation, some form of therapy, some way to take the edge off.

And this is it. This was the one thing that I've been missing out for so long. This one song, the perfect setting, the perfect time and the right mindset.

Yes. I felt pure and utter rage then at my brother's response and his cowardice. But now? Nothing. What I feel now is a feeling that's considered peaceful, quiet, no anger, no hatred, nothing.

I suppose you could say that I'm being numb and you're right about that. But this was what I needed so desperately before I did do something that I would immediately regret, for everyone's sake. And now, I share this song with you. Sure, it's the main menu theme from Hotline Miami, but you know... That really doesn't matter right now. Just give this song one listen and just take it in, and I mean really take in the sounds you hear and just forget about what's going on right now.

As for me, I think I may go ahead and take a nap while keeping this cranked.
 
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Friday Night,
September 2nd, 2016

I know the higher-ups aren't going to like the fact that I had to encrypt my IP address as of this writing - but then again, maybe you're able to figure it out, I dunno - but allow me to state my case before everyone gets all bent out of shape about it. I'm highly certain that my brother is throttling my connection. For what reason? Because he's of the opinion that I don't do enough to help out. How certain? 100% certain, because he has threatened me with this.

Yeah, meanwhile, he's getting all doped up on coke and pot and chugging down Miller High Life, Heineken, sodas, eating KFC, and going out to concerts and staying out until about midnight and shit like that. Meanwhile, I'm basically taking care of a recently turned 61-year-old woman in the form of our mother, living off about $200 in food stamps.

Ugh. Just writing that out makes me feel uneasy for some reason.

But you see, how the fuck am I in the wrong here when I'm trying my absolute hardest to do the right thing not only by you, my brother, but also by everyody else? And yet, you're the one who's doing wrong? Do you not see the ass-backwards logic here? Do you also not see that you're basically ripping off of ma when she needs the money more to move while I'm essentially the First Responder if for some ungodly reason I have to call an ambulance like I did earlier this week, where you slunk away after getting pissed off at me for moving your pot out of the way so the EMTs didn't see it? So not only are you the biggest charlatan, but you're a dirty fucking yellow-bellied coward. You left me dealing with the EMTs, knowing what little I knew of her allergies, sifting through paperwork among paperwork, signing what needed to be signed and then having to wait. The waiting was what did me in. So much so, that I had to take a catnap until someone said I was allowed to go in and see her. After all was said and done, I had to make the conscious effort to go and see her in the hospital while you were out doing whatever after you got out of work.

You cad. You weiner. You wuss. You pansy. You pussy. You bitch. You fucking PHONY.

The brother I knew years ago would've had this shit handled already and wouldn't bat an eyelash. He would've just went ahead and did it, get it done and over with.

But no. This man that I see now? This man is nothing but a fucking clown.

I do see the point you were hammering home, though. That much was made apparent that I do need to do more to help her out, but am I in any position to do so? That's debatable and let's leave it at that. But I'm the bad guy here, huh? I don't get you. I don't think I'll ever get you. I've wanted nothing more than a thank you from you or a pat on the shoulder from you, just some form of acceptance from you, RJ. That's all.

But now? Nah. You can keep on doing what you do best. And I hope you live with the consequences of what your future actions bring you, because I sure as hell am NOT going to help you. Yes, you helped me out immensely when I needed help. But why am I made to feel like I'm walking on eggshells around you when I really shouldn't? Aren't we family? Aren't we brothers? Aren't we supposed to help each other out when the shit hits the fan? Aren't we a part of a matching set, like Thing 2 and Thing 1, who did anything, anything under the sun?

Just. Why, RJ? Why? What made you turn into such a miserable prick? Is it because of me? If so, what did I do to make you so mad? What didn't I do that's got your balls in a twist? Or more twisted than they already are, when I think about it. But the thing I'm asking here is what the fuck have you got against me, man? That's all I wanna know.

But I know I'll never get a straight answer from you, because you'll just weasel your way out of it, just like you always do and hide it all behind some form of bullshit. But hey, look at it like this. When this is all said and done, you'll never have to look for my ass ever again. I mean, let's face facts. You're 35, I'm 31. We're two grown ass men who've got their own goals all figured out and how we're going to get there, but know this. Once we're done, I don't care how badly you want to see me again, I'll be damn sure to never open that door to you. You won't get a penny out of me. You won't see hide or hair from me. You won't even find me on a map with where I'll be, RJ. Never again. Ma won't like it, but this is between you and me.

But between you and me, I don't care. I'll wish you the best of luck in whatever it is you wanna do, but that's it. You can keep your internet, your League of Legends, your Diablo 3, you can keep your Call of Duty, you can keep whatever it is you wanna do to yourself and leave me the fuck out of it, because I don't want any part of it. More importantly, you can keep your friends, too. I have enough of my own, thank you. You can also keep your pot. Besides, I damn near blew my heart out of my chest the last time I got twisted with you.

Just do me one solitary favor, though. Whatever you do, no matter how badly you fuck up, I don't wanna hear it. Just keep my name, dad's name and ma's name out of your mouth. It's high time I started doing shit for me, but without you. You're more than capable on your own now, man. You don't need your little brother anymore. You don't need dad anymore - then again, the hell am I talking about? You've never needed him anyway the same way he never needed you - and you most certainly don't need ma anymore, whereas for me, I realize they're the only two people who matter in this day and age, and I have to make sure that they're taken care of, help them out with what they need done and shit like that. I know it's not the most glorious job in the world, but with as much time as I've spent on those buses going from place to place and to here, there and everywhere in between, I should be driving for RIPTA right about now! Or hell, I should own the entire bus line in this state alone!

But yet... Like I said. I just don't get you anymore. Perhaps I'm not meant to understand you, as I've said also.

But maybe, just this once, I'd like to get some form of explanation from you as to why you did this. But knowing you, you'd just as soon clam up and run away like a little bitch. But whatever. I know you'll never listen. Just like I know you'll keep on running. So run, RJ. Run to wherever it is you're running to and when you get there, I hope you're happy. I hope it's worth it. I hope it's everything you've dreamed of, because I won't be there.

No more.

I suppose I've gone on long enough. I gotta get going since I'm getting tired. Like I said, hopefully the higher ups understand why I had to do this. Meantime, take it easy.
 
You do so much, D. And those who matter KNOW this. You truly are inspiring on so many levels. Screw those who don't see it (and really because they have their head so far up their ass that it's impossible to see anything). *hugs you* <33333
 
Monday Morning,
September 5th, 2016

Welp, I had myself a bit of a treat last night. Came out of watching Felidae, a '94 German animated movie that was something along the lines of those old school whodunnit noir flicks from the '30s and '40s, only given a sort of Disney-esque or Don Bluth style look to it, featuring talking housecats. Now, since I know there are those of you with children who occasionally pop into this little lonely writer's garret of mine to peruse my thoughts, so I must make this perfectly clear to you right now.

YOU ARE UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCE TO WATCH THIS MOVIE WITH CHILDREN UNDER THE AGE OF 10 OR 12, AS THIS MOVIE DOES CONTAIN VIOLENCE, COARSE LANGUAGE, SEXUAL THEMES AND SITUATIONS, DISTURBING IMAGERY AS WELL AS BLOOD AND GORE.​

As for what I know of the plot, it's basically about a housecat who moved into a new neighborhood, but uncovers a bizarre series of murders - and yes, there are deaths on screen - leading up to one cat who wanted to create a sort of feline master race for... World domination?

HA HA. SUBTLE.


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RVAhW4ToLFI


I won't go into further detail, but I'd say go ahead and check this out, especially if you've also seen Watership Down which is sort of similar to this, but has rabbits instead. Which reminds me, I need to check that out, too.

Anyways, moving on.

Did you ever have one of those days where as soon as you get into a store - say, Walmart, for example - where all you want to do is to just get in there, get what's on your list and just get out? But during all this time, you're only left alone to go peruse around a while, looking at this, looking at that and yet, your ears are constantly assaulted by all the noises of the kids, the people yammering on their phones and not getting their shit and getting out of the way, wishing that some of those fatasses wouldn't wear yoga pants or you know, the things you see in pictures from the People of Walmart Facebook page?

Yeah. That was my day in a nutshell. I can say with conviction that I absolutely loathe going into any Walmart nowadays, because it's all true. It gets even worse if you have to take a bus to get there, too and the person behind you has a kid - or two - sits right behind you, and the kid is making the sorts of noises you'd normally hear from air raid sirens at which point, you want to look back at the parent and just glare at them with a dagger-in-your-eyes look before your fist stopped right in their face.

Moral of the story here is this: Control your children on public transportation, get your shit and move along and for god's sake, stop embarrassing the rest of us who go into Walmart with your ridiculous outfits. No one - and I mean NO ONE - wants to see your Hello Kitty print underwear under your stretch pants and you have an ass the size of a 1996 Mitsubishi Eclipse, you double decker halfwit. It could also be that perhaps I'm getting way too cynical at my age, I think.

Either that, or perhaps I didn't wanna stay in there too long since I was there only to get a few things for supper that night. I dunno.

But anyways, I suppose I might as well get going for now. Got a few things to do today. With any luck, it'll be a painless day. Somehow, I doubt it, but you never know. Things could be looking up for a change. Talk to you soon.
 
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Tuesday Night,
September 6th, 2016

Welp, I was partly right about hoping for a painless day. Mentally, it went by rather quick. Physically, that's a whole different ballgame right there, padre.

Today began with waking up a bit late, since my mom and I had to scram down to the Woonsocket DHS building since we had some stuff to turn in, and give some updates to the paperwork we had signed some time before. From there, we had to go down to Providence to get our new bus cards since for some apparent reason or another that was never really explained to us, the current ones we had were no good. My guess is there were people who had those cards were passing them around to people, stole them or sold them. It's anybody's guess. If you ask me, however, it's a necessary changeover, as I can understand as to why. I also understand that the drivers have to make money somehow, as well as keeping the buses in tip-top shape - to an extent, since those older ones seem to have more lasting power than the newer ones that came onto the scene, plus the parts needed are more plentiful, I suppose - and all that other bullshit. So for people to get all bent out of shape over a little piece of plastic getting a redesign is just stupid. What I don't understand is how mental people can get just because one office is shutting down at 3:30, only to do it all again tomorrow then start fighting and cutting in the line just because you wanted to get ahead of someone else.

So you tell me. Is starting fights over a little piece of plastic getting a makeover really worth it?

Even I knew that I wasn't going to be able to get it done today, since my mom and I got into town at around 2:30 then got into the line. I had an original thought that perhaps I wouldn't get into there until around 4:00, when one of the guards came out and said they were closing up at 3:30 instead, at which point I looked at the time on my phone and said, "Nah." So, I jumped out, looked over to my mom who was sitting down at this time, shook my head and made a slashing motion at my throat, telling her this wasn't going to work today.

So, instead, we went over to Subway, got some sandwiches and then called it a day.

It wasn't without the occasional headaches along the way, and goddammit, there were loads of those. I've said it once, I'll say it again. Between the bus driver stomping on the gas and the brakes like a dipshit, people acting like total boneheads either in public or wherever, it's almost enough that you just want to mush their faces in with a 15-pound sledgehammer. But as long as you've got some music in your ears and/or are able to tune shit out or even laugh at some things people say, you're golden.

Since one of the earpieces of my Sony headset shat the bed, I kinda don't have the luxury right now. So, I'm just forced to endure the long, droning ride to one place and the other. Pardon me while I go puke, because there are just some things that I just don't do on the bus, unless if it's a topic I'm interested in or have some insight on. Otherwise, SHEDDAFUGGUP and FUGGOFF.

Of course, the return trip home was okay. Up until we got back to the house, where the door was locked, and I didn't have the right key to get in through the bottom door. So, we waited for someone to unlock the door and here comes my brother - fucking twat that he is - pulling up in the driveway, stomping on the gas as he was backing up, grumpin' and grousing as per usual. But hey, at least my mother knows ways to defuse him by saying the right things to get him to ease off, despite his responses are still the usual amounts of bitching and complaining.

Jesus, RJ, go and get laid, will ya?

Oh.

Wait.

Bad idea.

You're married still. Unless if that's being too much of a problem. I dunno. Probably don't need to say anymore than that.

Other than that, today was just... a sort of "bleh" kind of day. It's been that way for a while now. With any luck, it'll be different soon.

I hope, because I can't take another day in someplace where it doesn't feel welcome. I also can't take another day in a shelter. I just can't take another day of this, period.

On an unrelated note, I came across something that my cousin Michelle posted on her Facebook that actually made me roll my eyes but smile all at the same time with how much of a dork my cat Tux is for even putting up with this nonsense.

14212208_10210312979969567_6463571440207311368_n.jpg


Yes, that's my cat Tux with six My Little Pony figures on him that her daughter Caitlin put there, with the look on his face that says, "Yeah, whatever." I'll never be able to look at him the same way now that this happened, but I can't help but laugh at this, especially when my dad, mom and other cousin started chiming in and having a laugh at my cat's expense, too. But the worst part of this? This overgrown mongoloid just sits there and cheeses for the camera like it's nothing. I swear, you can twist him up like a pretzel and he wouldn't say or do shit. So long as there's food in his pink paw print bowl - another thing I found to be outright hilarious that he does this, too - he doesn't care.

I taught him well.

Though I think I taught him too well.

Anyways, I suppose I might as well go ahead and get outta here for now. Take it easy and with any luck, there's some good news to report on.
 
Sunday Afternoon,
September 11th, 2016

You know, it's hard to believe that a national tragedy brought us together on this day more than 15 years ago would see us all ripped apart further and further away from each other 15 years later. It's almost as if people forgot that we all turned to our family, friends and even random strangers who we've never met and from there, we all started helping each other in more ways than one all of those years ago. We were all supposed to come together for that day and celebrate the fact that regardless of our backgrounds, regardless of where we're from, what color our skin is and regardless of whatever the fuck is wrong with your brains, it's a day that we all came together as one collective patriot.

Let's hope we never forget that.

But on the flipside of things, it's time to talk again.

So apparently, it looks as though my brother wants to screw out of here a bit sooer than planned. And of course, he's still wanting to take jabs at me for it, too. But yet, I think he's forgetting something very important: From the ages of 16 to about 30, ma helped him out just as much as me. Who was it that helped him fuel his lifestyle choices? Although I had offered a bit of a contribution along the way, it was all ma. When he got married, who helped him then? His wife, especially with all of that insurance money that came in when her second husband got himself killed when an Afghani police cruiser accidentally ran his truck off the road. They lived rather nicely on that. Got to travel the world, got to go see Emilie Autumn, walked on Abbey Road, got married in a 700 year old Scottish castle, got an owl for a ringbearer, that kinda shit.

But the question remains.

What happened to it all? Sure, you got to have it nice for a long while, but the problem I'm seeing the most of is that you pissed it all away. And for what? I know I won't get a straight answer from you, but at this point, I don't think I'm in the mood to hear it. More to the point, where is it that you're running off to? Canada?

Newsflash. It takes money to not only get a passport, but then there's all those toll roads between here, Connecticut, Massachusetts and Vermont if you're going straight up north as well as further out northwest if you want to pass through the Catskills of New York State. Then there's the tollbooths to get into Canada itself.

All in all, you'll be lucky to break even if you take into account of all the gas stations and shit you pass by. But that's just me talking out my ass as I normally do. After all, I'm supposedly the bad guy here, right? I'm at fault for not helping out with ma more often than I should, huh? I'm the bad guy because you think I'm leeching off of her when she's been in control of her own fianances? Even if I do ask her for money, I never ask for more than 20 dollars to either get a pack of smokes, something to eat and/or drink or maybe even bus fare and that's it. More importantly, I'm not the one who has a drug habit. I'm not the one who's got a Yamaha POS motorcycle out in the yard that barely even works. I'm also not the one who sinks money into a fucking video game all because some expansion came out.

Wanna know my claim to fame? Here's a hint and I know there are those of you who know about this, plus I've even told you this as well, my brother.

Guild Wars 2. Been out for about 12 years now. Long time to run for an MMO. The core game by itself is free. You want the expansion for more content, like say, a glider skin? A PVP finisher? Maybe even an armor skin or some other crap like that? Guess what. You can buy that either as a digital download or you can get the physical copy of the game and you only have to pay for it once and only fucking once. After that, it's yours and yours alone. You want extra shit associated with the game? Sure, you'll have to pay a little extra, but check this out. You can buy in-game currency - which has been steadily dropping in price as of recently - then turn around and go buy that content you got your eye on. Sure, Blizzard's been doing something like that too, but there's still the 15 dollar a month subcription shit. You won't get anything like that at all with Guild Wars 2.

You could say that it did have a similar model in its first iteration back then, but stick with me here for a minute. However, business models change over the course of time. Blizzard's still stuck in that cash register mentality. ArenaNet isn't. It won't kill you to try something different and get your entertainment value of watching numbers flash on screen at a fraction of the cost. Barring the final boss fight with Mordremoth in Heart of Thorns, of course, since it has a tendency to bug out every so often.

However, the game itself is leagues better than what you might think. And hell, I've got two max level characters - one I boosted because I wasn't in the mood to deal with stupid bullshit - with a third one I wanted to try for shits 'n giggles. And I still got two more character slots to decide what class I wanna try next.

Lessee. The three I have active. An 80th level Warrior/Berserker. Sometimes I take him out for dailies, mining, foraging, lumbering and vista viewing. An 80th level Revenant. Kinda working on his Zhaitan campaign. Still, I take him out whenever I feel like taking on bosses in a different manner. Kinda stinks he doesn't have ranged attacks, but that's okay so long as I know how to do the old stick-n-move. A 56th level Elementalist. Ranged attacks, healing - not as good as say either a Guardian or a Mesmer, I think - able to lay down clusters of DPS and capable of increasing his own physical speed without needing a buff to get out of trouble should the need arise? Yes plz! Two of those I hand built to my own playstyle. The third one I thought, to hell with it, just gimme something I can work with. Safe to say, I haven't been disappointed with what I saw. Although, it can use a little bit of fine-tuning to really make him stand out.

I'll let you take a guess as to which one I boosted.

But the thing I'm getting at here people is that I had to work my ass off to get those guys where they are for basically next to nothing. A one time purchase of a digital download for 50 bucks. You can say I should've gotten the physical copy for 30 - and you're right about this, since I did see the physical copy of the game at Wal-Mart a while back - but yeah. You, my brother, are getting railroaded and yet, you don't even seem to give a rat's ass.

But getting back on point. What happened to all of that money? How are you also 100 bucks shy of paying rent when I've essentially paid my way? Just how? What have you been doing? Better yet, it's safe to not know.

But yet, I know I won't know since you've told me through your own actions. I know through the sounds of something tapping against the glass. I know from the sounds of a lighter. I know through the sounds of coughing. I know based on your temper. I know based on both what I see and what I don't see. I also know based on your own bullheaded mannerisms.

I know. And no, I don't approve.

But, you can keep doing what you're doing and leave me the fuck out of it. Just know one thing. When you crash and burn, you'll find out that it's going to be hell trying to get to Heaven and the sad part is this. I won't be there to help you. Not this time. Not now. Not ever. You made your own bed. Now you sleep in it. My one hope is that you'll see it for yourself before it's too late. If you get out of the way of whatever's coming, good. Perhaps you'll learn something of it.

If not? Oh well. Perhaps you should've listened to what you said some years ago when you said that you would never become what dad was in the early 2000s, you hypocrite. Lastly, don't point a finger at someone to blame, because there's always - ALWAYS - going to be three more pointing back at you and that's all I'm going to say about this, since I've harped on this more times than I care to count that it's getting to a point where it loses all of its meaning.

So. Different topic.

I've been watching a lot of wrestling again. No, it's not Raw, NXT, Smackdown or even Impact. Shockingly, it's not Ring of Honor, either. No, it's not Chikara Pro, New Japan or any of those. Believe this or not, but I've been watching WhatCulture Pro Wrestling. It's a YouTube based wrestling show set out in Newcastle Upon Tyne out in the United Kingdom. And you know something? I'm actually having fun watching it, even if there are some guys I know and some new ones I've never heard of before. So far, I've enjoyed everything I've seen from it. I really do. I'm wondering as to how they've managed to grab all of the talents that some other promotions passed up or let go of, but whatever.

And that's all there is to say. I might as well get going for now since I feel a bit of a nap coming on. I'll talk to you some other time.
 
Saturday Afternoon,
September 24th, 2016

Disclaimer: Expect salt, foul and derogatory language ahead. Don't like what I wrote? Don't read it. Simple as that.​


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DDOVV3XHrnc


Walk like you do, RJ?

Motherfucker, don't even get me started. You have no idea as to where I've been, what I've done what I had to do in order to get where I am now. So for you to tell me to get up at 8:00 AM on Monday and go find some cans instead of "being in the house all day" is complete and utter bullshit. But you know what? I'll do that just to spite you when you should know better. You wanna kick me out when you know damn well that at least my way is paid while your little fuckboy buddy is basically wallowing away doodling around on his XBOX 360 working a one-day-a-week job, paying not even a tenth of his way?

You told ma that I help her. Yes, I do. Because you won't. No one else does. Because no one has the gumption in them to help her out whe it mattered the most! I'm the only person in thie family whose nigger enough to even do half of the things that you won't or can't be bothered enough to do. Yes, I've made sacrifices. Yes, I've had to tighten my belt. Yes, I've had to take odd jobs. Yes, I've made a little money along the way. But at least I've had something to at least get myself whatever it is I needed just so I could make it through the night or at least the very next day, like get a pack of smokes, a coffee, maybe even a fucking slice of pizza just because I wanted to treat myself! So for you to tell me to "walk like you do" is utter horseshit. You've never had to sleep on a cot or a bunk bed with like five to 11 other guys all in the same room whose snoring could wake the dead, have to eat in the same house with like 30 some odd people who come from various points of the state or maybe even all points between Massachusetts or even Connecticut!

YOU'VE HAD IT EASY IN COMPARISON TO ME YOU FUCKING FAGGOT. YOU'VE STAYED WITH FRIENDS AND THAT'S ALL YOU DID WHERE AS FOR ME, I'VE STAYED IN TWO DIFFERENT COMPLEXES WITH COMPLETE AND TOTAL STRANGERS AND HAD TO RELY ON MY OWN WITS, MY OWN STRENGTH AND MY OWN WILLPOWER IN ORDER TO KEEP MYSELF GOING WHILE I WRITE IN THIS LITTLE FUCKING BOX TELLING EVEN MORE RANDOM STRANGERS ABOUT HOW I GOT FUCKED OVER WORSE THAN YOU AND NOW, YOU'RE WANTING TO FUCK ME AND YOUR MOTHER OVER JUST FOR THOSE LITTLE DIMEBAGS YOU BRING YOU HOME EVERY OTHER DAY, MAYBE EVEN GET A LITTLE NICKLE BAG OF COKE AND TO SUPPORT YOUR FUCKWIT FRIEND WHO LOOKS LIKE A REJECT FROM DUCK DYNASTY. DON'T YOU EVER TELL ME TO WALK LIKE YOU DO WHEN YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW THE FIRST STEP OF WHERE I'VE WALKED, YOU FUCKING CUNTRAG.

How about you try wearing my shoes for once? Oh wait. You wear 13s. I wear 10 and a halfs. You can't even fit them.

I can't wait for you to crash and burn. And when you do and when you come and try to look for me, I'll only slam that door in your face because I'm sick of looking at your face, listening to you complain, whine, bitch, I'm sick of your lies, I'm sick of everything that it is that you do and say. YOU HEAR ME!? I'M SICK of you! I'm sick of everything about you and I wish you ill. I made this clear to ma, too, that I don't want to talk to you when I'm getting ready to leave, I don't even want to even interact with you for any reason whatsoever. You're NOTHING to me. NOTHING.

You'll regret everything you've said to me. You'll regret everything you've said to your mother. You'll regret everything at some point or another, RJ. But as far as I know, you've gone ahead and burned those bridges, so why should I feel obligated to do anything for you when you've got it all figured out as you so claim when you know damn well that ma had to help you just as much as she did for me!? Okay, so maybe she helped me more, but I've had to help her out in return, you ignorant, dimwitted, fuckload of pissbrained, pus-gutted, bloodspewing fucking noisehole of FUCKDOM.

Yes, I'm angry, people. And yes, I know what I said. Yes, I know that perhaps I should tone down some of the things I've said, but you if you've known me times before when I've sounded off, I've never held back with anything. More importantly, this is the only thing that I've got left before I do something that I'll regret when I'm brought before a judge for a capital murder offense!

In short, RJ, I hate you. Then again, no, hate's too weak a word for someone like you. I LOATHE you. I DESPISE YOU. You make me fucking SICK is what you do. You're nothing more than a niggily, tiggily, shitty little tag nut that won't be wiped out my asshole after I took a giant, five hour dump from eating Chinese, Mexican and Thai all in the same go and then downed it all with a four-pack of Red Bull during Cinco De Mayo in a summer swelter resulting in me bleeding profusely from prolapsed asshole and I got no mercurochrome to treat it, you blood money soaked motherfucker. And yeah. You got married with the blood of a dead US soldier. A friend of yours, no less. How's that feel, huh?

But then again, you've never liked me either, so the feeling is indeed mutual. And when I land a job, you had better hope and pray that I don't rub it in your face over the fact that it's a job I love doing whereas you're stuck at a job you hate but you won't pursue other opportunities even with your two-year college education. But at least one of us has the balls to go and pursue a dream he's had since the beginning.

You tell me to walk like you do. Get the fuck outta here with that and save your talk for someone who's still got miles to go before he can call it quits, whereas for you? You've given up and you haven't even walked an inch of where I've tread because you're too scared or you're too damn proud to admit when you've been licked and it's time to suck down your pride. Much as I hate to get religious, but Pride is in fact one of the seven deadly sins that you've committed time and time again so how about you take my middle finger all the way up into your haggardly windpipe and choke on it all!?

I could sit here and rag on you all day and bitch and cuss you out something fierce, but let's face it. You have no reputation anymore. You have no moral ground to stand on. You have no reason to talk to me like I'm some fucking stranger. You have no reason to talk to ma like she's a part of the problem, because you know who's the real problem here? You and your actions.

Case closed. Over and out without a doubt.

*hawks and spits* And pick that up while you're at it.

Now that the rant part of the program is over people, allow me to compose myself. Yes, I know I threw a LOT of extreme, if not inflammatory words around. But yet, they've all been wrapped up in a lot of truth and without pulling any punches? What do you want me to do? Lie and say that I've got a real nice thing going on? No, I can't do that. I've maybe had to lie a few times to get out of situations I didn't want to be involved in or had to get out of trouble, but at least I'm man enough to admit it. But then again, you've already heard me say to a fan that I didn't have a new video ready when I knew I did. I've taken screenshots of moments when someone asked me about a new video and even put down people saying that bugging me all the goddamn time about new videos wasn't going to make me start making them any faster on Twitter. I didn't like doing it, but something had to be said or so help me, I was going to flip my lid and tell people to shut the fuck up! That'd make me into an even bigger asshole than I needed to be! Who do people think I am? LeafyIsHere? Jacksepticeye? Markiplier? Fucking Pewdiepie?


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hwz7YN1AQmQ


Thought not.

All I want is when I'm having those off days is to just be left alone, for fuck's sake! That's all.

Goddammit.

Like I said, I'm sorry if I got all off-keister and all crazy here, people, but I've absolutely had it, especially with my brother and stupid people in general. But then again, that's why I put up that disclaimer at the top of the post to let you know that yes, shit's about to get real and you got the one chance to get out now before you begin reading, because like I said, I don't pull punches and I don't sugarcoat things. But this is really and truly the one thing that I've got left.

I swear, I'm gonna get myself kicked off of here before too long. I think I better end this now before it gets too long-winded and convoluted.

Ugh.
 
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Midday,
October 5th, 2016


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tgepu4xU-84


Two years. That's 24 months. 730 days. Well, 731, actually, since 2016's a leap year. As was 2014, so 732 when I think about it now.

Bah, technicalities. Let's just call it 730.

I know I said this before that a lot can change in a year. But if you were to tell me that I'd be spending two years homeless back in 2014, I'd just look at you with a bizarre look on my face and say, "What in the fuck are you talking about? That never happened." If you were to also ask me to draw out what a homeless person looked like, I'd probably draw a man with torn clothes, reeking of booze, eyes all bloodshot and bleary looking and asking someone if they had any change on them. His face would be weatherbeaten. His hands would be rougher looking than leather.

Never would I think that that homeless person would be me. Living out of suitcases, trash bags, carts, whatever it is I got my hands on trying to eke out another day from wherever it is I was at. I also thought about this when I went over to the Whitman Street U-Haul where for two years, the rest of my things as well as the entire house from Manton Avenue all stays as of now. Funny thing was, we had to be out of the place before midnight when the verdict was handed down in that courtroom.

It saddens me even more just looking at what's there even now. A two-piece hutch, kitchen table and four chairs, there's probably a couple AC units in there, clothes, blankets, ma's Mickey Mouse collection, books, my PlayStation 2 and what few games I got for it, silverware, pots 'n pans, could be a Crock Pot in there, all that shit. It's all still there, locked up in a 5' x 7' x 9' storage unit, packed to the very top. Of course, I accidentally ripped a box open when I was getting the shutter door up, but...

Well, when I think about it like this, we're gonna need new boxes once we're getting ready to go. It was also in those two years, 24 months and 730 days that I learned an awful lot about people and how reliable they can be when push comes to shove. There've been times when perhaps I learned a bit more than I should've and you're right about that. But at the same time, it was high time that I did need to learn about who was truly in your corner or who you needed to be beside when the chips are down. During all of this, you've even learned a lot about me as well. You've seen me at my worst. You've seen me at my best. You've shared in my pain. You've even shared in my joy. You've seen with your own two eyes at how much I could take. You've seen me bend, you've seen me break, but you've also have seen me push through my own limits and eventually surpass them just as much as you've also seen me hit multiple walls along the way, only to bust right through them. Then, there were those times when I hit a wall I couldn't get through. If I couldn't get through that wall, I've gone around it and continued to soldier on. And yes, I admit to the fact that I needed to do more and you're right about that, too. But at the same time, I know that I could only do so much with what little I would've had. I know I could also make it stretch. I know I could make it last. By the same token, it wouldn't make even the slightest bit of difference. But it wouldn't hurt to try.

Soon as we got out of the U-Haul yesterday, my mother and I started talking about what we would do once we're up and going once more. She talked about wanting to go on that Yukon cruise out in Alaska, I talked about wanting to go to see some pro wrestling, a football game or even a hockey game with her, she then answered back that I should also go hang out with a friend somewhere, I followed up with if there was a convention I had my eye on, yeah, I wanted to go there and check that out, too. As I said in the past, I don't care what it is or who's gonna be the big media personality there or what wrestler's gonna show up there, if there's something for me to do while I'm there, you bet your fuckin' ass I'll be there with a camera ready to take some pictures and record some footage of me out walking around and doing whatever people do at those conventions.

I guess if there's one quality I share with my mom, is that she and I are dreamers. Big dreamers. Lofty dreamers. Ambitious dreamers. Daydreamers. Pipe dreamers. But dreamers all the same. That's not really a bad thing, if you ask me. But even then, dreams do cost a lot to fulfill. They also take plenty of time and effort. Over time, effort becomes determination. Determination becomes hope and hope becomes purpose. Purpose becomes ambition.

But yet, when I think about it all now, the one thing that I know that I want more than anything is to just go home. Just go home and be done with the whole thing. I feel that once I do go home, I can just lay back on the bed, curl up and sleep for the rest of the year. Don't get me wrong people, I still got lots of things I wanna do. But as of recently, I've been coming to terms with the fact that I've been so... fucking... tired of it all. I'm tired of being treated like a stranger. I'm tired of having to walk around on eggshells just to make sure that I'm doing right by people. I'm tired of not having my own space to do whatever it is that I want. I'm tired of having to listen to the same sounds of bullshit from people wherever I go. I'm tired of people in general and I want - more than anything - to be left alone.

I'm just tired and I want to go to sleep for about seven or eight months. And don't call me unless if you're bleeding from a major artery, Judgment Day has finally arrived, there's an alien invasion, a riot, or just... No. Just leave me alone. I don't wanna hear it. When I'm all rested up and ready to go, then you can lay it all on me and I'll tell you what I think or what I think you need to do or maybe even help out. After all, you can't really do it all by yourself, can you?

But as it stands as of right now?

Just.

Fucking.

No.

Leave me out of it. I mean, I'll still listen and maybe offer up an opinion about it, but be warned, it'll be half-assed. Or maybe I'll end up tuning it out. If you see me not paying attention, don't take it personally. Just don't say that I didn't warn you. Okay?

Anyways, I suppose I might as well get going for right now. I feel a bit of a nap coming on. See you soon.
 
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Friday Early Morning,
October 7th, 2016

You know, the more that I hang around this part of Woonsocket, the more that I'm convinced that this part of town is going to get me killed.

The reason as to why I say this is because I've been up all night, and I'm a little bit nervous. Here's why. When I was in the bathroom about five hours ago, I was just trying to take a shit when I started hearing glass break not once, but twice. While I didn't think much of this at first since I was also tired, what got my attention afterwards was a horn blaring. Again, I didn't think much. So, I turn to leave the bathroom after killing the light and I look back to see an orange light from behind the blinds. So, I go over to the blinds and pull them down to see a truck on fire.

So, I get on the horn and call up 911 to have the Fire Department get to where the fire was, which was right across the lot from where we were.

I don't know what the fuck is going on around here nowadays, but goddammit, can all of this madness stop? Like... Can we have a normal day again when none of this bullshit ever happens? Just a quiet, no nonsense, easy-peasy relaxing day. That's all. Just. No more. Come on now. Enough's enough. You made your point. Just... Kindly stop please. That's all.

j e s u s f u c k i n g c h r i s t i n e e d t o g e t t h e f u c k o u t o f h e r e

I'm gonna try to sleep now. I can't hold my eyes open anymore.
 
Sunday Early Morning,
October 9th, 2016


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ykUS6wF_7zM


In case you're wondering, this is the level music you hear from the tenth stage of Mr. Bones on the Sega Saturn, called Glass Shards. Now of course, it doesn't have Ronnie Montrose's distinct voice telling you all about what the blues is all about, but it does have that signature wailing electric guitar that made his music be something of an underground hit when this game came out for that system. It's kind of a shame that that was the one game where it was featured oh so prominently. It's also sad that I never got a chance to listen to more of this man's music, since he's been dead for quite a while, now. F'r realsies.

Welp, things have settled back to normal after what I wrote about a few days ago. Can't say it still doesn't bug me that there are people like that out there still are in fact capable of doing this shit, because anyone can just come unglued at the drop of a hat, set their vehicle of choice near a house and then attempt to burn it down with no regard of human life. Here's to also hoping that whoever it was that did that will be caught swiftly and brought before a jury of his peers, the person who owns the place has insurance and the people who live there are all doing okay.

But yeah. Yesterday was just one of those kinds of days where I think everyone just sucks. I don't know why, and I'm a little too tired to think about it.

If you wanna listen to this, feel free. But don't just listen to it. Feel it.

Anyways, I'm out for now. Take care.
 
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Late Night,
October 19th, 2016

Never thought I'd be able to say this, but thanks to our own darkangel76, she's gotten me back into RPing again. Funny thing was, I've been thinking about doing some serious writing at a time in my life where I feel as though that perhaps I got one more thing to write about. I got one more story to tell. And well, DA sent me a PM a few nights ago asking, "Hey, I know you're going through some stuff, but did you wanna RP with me? You don't have to if you don't want to" and all that other good stuff. So, we talked out a few ideas, I looked through her thread and all that and eventually, we started hammering ideas out. A lot of which I think you guys are really gonna like.

I know what you're going to ask, however, and allow me to stop you right there.

I know this is probably going to piss some of you off, but that's not saying I'm coming back to full-time RPing and just start taking on partners left and right. I'm afraid I can't do that. But I figure this. I got a golden opportunity to write with someone who I've written with before and she was just as awesome in that thread as I had it figured out to be. So, I knocked this back and forth for a while in my head and continued thinking. I also have been noticing that I've been coming around here every once in a blue moon - HAHAHAHA - and have been writing a bit more. Sometimes on more than one occasion.

So why her, you're asking. Why just her. No, this isn't preferential treatment or some exclusivity thing. That's not it at all. Simply put, I don't have enough patience to deal with like 30 some odd people nowadays. Secondly, with the fact that my IRL has taken up a lot of my time between helping my brother out with what shit he's been hauling in here as of recently - he's still moving out at the end of the month so best of luck to him there since I still want nothing to do with the prick after all the shit that flew from his mouth these past few months and then some - having to take care of my mother and of course having to go hungry a few times or not eating enough and then just having to block it out...

Heh, heh, heh... I think you get my point. And no, I don't recommend this as a diet. At all. Remember, people. I'm still the professional crash test dummy here. You're not. Although, on the plus side, I did drop about 85 pounds over the course of nine months. Hell, when I stepped on the scale last time, I was nearly the same weight I was when I was in high school in my Junior year when I was thinking about joining the wrestling team as a Heavyweight. Now if I can drop another 20 or so, well fuck, I'll be right as rain.

Still. I wouldn't recommend it.

But... I mean, when I think back, the last time I've had some serious amounts of writing was as far back as 2012. 2013, if you wanna count the last two threads I was in, only to have a couple of no-shows. One of which I'll admit to being my fault, but then again, IRL has a REAAAAAAAAAAAALLY bizarre habit of sneaking up from behind you and steal you for an extended period of time only to let you back out into the world with a black eye, a bloody nose, two missing teeth, a prolapsed asshole...

Maybe that's a little too in depth. But yeah. It's been a LONG fuckin' time since I've done this shit and for the simple fact that I'm getting one more chance to do this again with someone who I've really clicked with before and had some awesome writing sessions with? Fuck yeah, I'll take that chance. I'll give it one more go. In the words of Shawn Michaels, I'll do it again.

One.

More.

Time.

Now if that ain't puttin' someone over, I dunno what that is.

Now then. Serious time. It's been a number of years since the last time I had ever hit a soup kitchen for any reason. Food stamps ran out, money was getting tight, my dad was being a drunken pig and ate everything he could with no regard back in those times and shit like that, but yet, there've been times when I had to get into a line with everybody else and wait to be served.

It wasn't, however, without dealing with perhaps the most rude sacks of shit I've ever seen in my entire life. I mean, yeah, there've been times when me and my mother have been stared down at by the staff at these places, but the people that come there are usually worse. Well, some were pretty bad. The staff there were actually very nice. The food was okay, too. If only they went a little bit easier on the amount of herbs that were all over the chicken, that would be great.

But getting back on subject. There were a group of kids from around the neighborhood who I honestly didn't think needed to be there for any reason whatsoever. They were obnoxious, rude, cut people in the line and were just all over the place. You might as well have sent for an exorcism for those fucking brats. Then you got this one couple who very much had money, but yet, they chose to be there instead for reasons I'll never understand. But, they pretty much shoved me out of my spot at the table. But, you know, I was kinda hungry, so I didn't feel like bitching anybody out. All in all, it was okay.

Now, if my brother can just swallow his pride for once and just come to terms with the fact that there are such places like this who not only provide a pantry, but also hand you free food, then he'd be fine, too. I mean, yeah, times are tough right now, but come on. Put your pride aside and just accept the fact that these places like churches and shit like that aren't there to be a sort of moral compass. No, they're so much more than that. They can help you.

I have no idea as to why I didn't do this before, but now that I know what I'm looking for, I'd say I should know this whole town like the back of my hand. Don't know if I'd ever live out here, but at this point, I'll take anything.

Anyways, I suppose that'll be enough from me for right now. But yeah, keep your eyes peeled. You're all in for something real special between me and DA. Take it easy for now.
 
Tuesday Night,
October 25th, 2016


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9xIe1tPtyAk


Well. This has been an interesting few days, and as such, there's quite a bit to talk about. For one thing, I had to help my dad move into his new place at Chateau Anne. That went over well. About as well as a hot fart in church, since he went right back to his old ways. So all of those two years meant nothing, huh? Two years of sobriety went right down the fuckin' drain. And for what? For one night of selfish pleasure?

Why should I bother asking these questions anyway? But I'll tell you one thing, dad. You've got no further business with my brother anymore. Any business you got? You're gonna deal with me from this point on. And you're going to find that I can be a difficult customer to work with, in terms of finances. However, it's not my fault that you sent me out on getting you your "make the pain go away serum". It's not my fault that your place is more or less a fucking junkyard that YOU STILL HAVEN'T BOTHERED TO ORGANIZE YET. It's not my fault that you're looking to get tossed out of that place if you keep this up. It's on YOUR head, dad.

And speaking of my brother.

RJ... I apologize. I'm sorry that J shafted you like he did when he decided to tuck his tail between his legs and ran off on you all because he owed you money and tried to stick you with a bill that you didn't deserve. But I'll tell you one thing. You won't have to worry about a thing from this point on. I'll help you. I don't know how I'm gonna do it, but since it's now fallen upon me and ma, we're going to help you whether you want it or not. I'm a firm believer in paying it forward.

But if there's one thing that you should know from this point on, it's this. Family sticks together come hell or high water.

But yet, at the same time, you should've seen the cracks on the wall beforehand. That should've been a major wake up call for you. Likewise, I should've seen this myself, but I instead chose to lay low and wait it out. But now that this has been all brought out into the light, it's high time to tighten up the belt and focus on what matters.

And I promise, RJ, that with everything I have and everything that I am, that you'll be helped out. And when I look you straight in the eye and hand you whatever it is I have in my hand, don't ask me any questions. Don't try to refuse it. Just take it, move on and go with my blessing.

I know you're 35. I know you're a married man. But you need help, too. You and I may butt heads every so often to the point where I wanna crack you in the jaw with a section of an I-beam, but goddammit, you're my brother. Money shouldn't matter between brothers. It's what's in your heart that matters.

But like I said, RJ... I'm sorry for all of this. You shouldn't have to deal with any of this. You shouldn't be under anyone's thumb. You shouldn't have to have the friend who would just as soon stab you in the back rather than stand face to face with you like a real man would.

But now, we can look forward to a new day. We can look forward to a new tomorrow in the right direction. I swear.

Anyways, I suppose I might as well get going for right now. I need to relax.
 
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Late Night,
November 20th, 2016


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XWx-zgmMceI


Well, it's been about a month. Quite a bit to talk about and all that other hot mess.

So, as I had said from last time, I stated that of course, my dad's been fucking up again with his going back to drinking again. And of course, at the drop of a hat, he's fucked up royally. Two times, he's had to go to the hospital because of the fact that he drank so heavily that not only was he hallucinating, but he had also fucked up his back. Badly. As to how he's even remotely capable of moving around is beyond me, but there's one thing that I know for certain that's pretty much an inescapable fact unless if he can unfuck himself and screw his head back on.

He's going to end up in a nursing home where they are not going to tolerate his shit. And if he fucks up there? There's no where for him to go and if he even thinks about coming here, there's another problem. RJ is not going to tolerate it either. As a matter of fact, he made it a point that he said he'll end up leaving here instead because he doesn't want to deal with him anymore.

And who the hell am I to blame him? But yet, I'm the only person who will put up with it because whether I like to admit it or not, that's my father who'll end up drinking himself to death. And as I've said it before, alcoholic deaths are not fucking pretty. I don't feel the need to explain this to you, as I'm 100% sure that you know exactly how it all ends. Then again, I recall going on a 15 minute tangent about this in a podcast once and goddammit, I still stand by those words to this day.

I want my dad to do better, but at the same time, I know it'll probably never happen. I know him far too well and I know that in the end, it won't matter. At all. But yet, I still thank him for everything that he's done for me and my mom so far, especially with helping me out with keeping my laptop from being sold in the pawn shop.

That was another thing too that I realized at one point when I looked at my ticket for it then thought, "Hm. I need to check this out." So, I got on the horn and called down to the pawn shop, only to be told that it was going to be sold unless if I came up with 50 bucks.

At that point, I was in full-blown panic mode until I realized I was going to see him that day anyway. Of course, it wasn't without him asking me to head down to the packy - that's the liquor store, btw - and get him his booze, but whatever. But nevertheless, I managed to save my laptop for another month until I can get the sumbitch out.

And speaking of which...

The screen on the laptop - the very first one, FYI - I'm on has decided to crap out. I mean, it still works, but the screen's incredily dim. But then, I had an idea. RJ and I put this computer that was in the front room into mine, where there was this monitor there. Of course, it wasn't a widescreen one. It was this CRT one with a VGA output. So, I plugged that into the VGA plug and changed the screen over to it and there we go. It's a temporary solution for right now, but I know full well this thing's not going to last much longer. So, I figure for right now, this has to work until I can get this thing fixed. Or strip it for parts. I dunno. Main thing is, something's gotta be done to it.

Good thing I got myself a pack of smokes, too. I'm just... Tired. Tired of everything.

Speaking of which, I think I'm gonna go hit the hay. I've had it for tonight.
 
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