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| 02:11am 20/12/2004 |
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This post is not from Dante / Boolean Cube / Iconoclast Putty:
All I know is from Joe's dad..
They were driving and Joe hit a telephone pole at the right headlight of his car.
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry to be telling everyone, Dante and Rod were pronounced dead at the scene. Joe is in a coma. He's expected to make it, but he has two broken legs, collarbone, breastbone, wrist, and damage to his liver. They have him in what I'm assuming is an induced coma because they can't anesthetize him and operate until the drug/alcohol tests come back positive or negative.
I'm so sorry.
I loved them like brothers..
-=Rest in peace=-
Dante and Roderick
12/18/2005
"Another Wake,
Another Time,
A Premature Goodbye.
I've watched you go and seen you pass,
I always knew it wouldn't last.
Together now we mourn the loss, and remember all the fun.
We'll Drink the beer and hang out where death took another son.
So all for one and one for all, do we ever wonder why.
Though the reasons clear, this friend so dear was taken before his time.
So may this round be on the corpse of a dead man,
with a toast that tells of a love you never shared.
So as we dance on the grave of the misbehaved . .
Raise your glass!
And sing the praise of a fallen soul.
Many bow their heads for this man they know so well,
with solemn thoughts they'll drink and drug for a resurrection.
(Facing death we fear no danger)
While Mothers shed their tears through a vail of desperation
these fiends of a vicious breed raise holy hell.
So may this round be on the corpse of a dead man,
with a toast that tells of a love you never shared.
So as we dance on the grave of the misbehaved . .
Raise your glass!
And sing the praise of a fallen soul.
How many times can fate be changed,
the dice be rolled is there no path of least resistance,
for the bold (It's never sought and rarely taken)
So may this round be on the corpse of a dead man,
with a toast that tells of a love you never shared.
So as we dance on the grave of the misbehaved . .
Raise your glass!
And sing the praise of a fallen soul.
Many bow their heads for this man they know so well,
with solemn thoughts they'll drink and drug for a resurrection.
(Facing death we fear no danger)
While Mothers shed their tears through a vail of desperation
these fiends of a vicious breed raise holy hell.
So may this round be on the corpse of a dead man,
with a toast that tells of a love you never shared.
So as we dance on the grave of the misbehaved . .
Raise your glass!
And sing the praise of a fallen soul." |
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| 01:12am 15/12/2004 |
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So, I might be getting a dog.
He's a buddy of mine's Argentine Dogo. It's some rare breed or other. He looks like a badass. I researched the breed briefly. You know, they use these things to hunt jaguars. Isn't that great? This dog is the coolest thing that has happened to me in a while.
Pictures...
That is a hell of an animal. Nobody will rob me for my shoes with him around.
He needs a name. Suggestions?
PS - My fucking head hurts. My hand hurts worse. I unravelled a few stitches of it. I had to because the knot wedged its way into the flesh of my hand and it hurt more than the cut. It feels better now. I butterfly-stitched it shut with a few slices of bandaids. It should do.
I need to take more percoset now. |
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| 01:45am 13/12/2004 |
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Where have I been? I've been without the internet. We needed to save a few dollars. I was also in the hospital all weekend.
Roderick and I decided to take a trip up to the Continental in New York to see a few bands that I've never heard of. Negative Reaction, Borgo Pass and a handful of others. It was a very enjoyable show. We'd been drinking beforehand at some pub that I cannot recall the name of. We also drank there. I was pretty bombed.
Well, Roddy spent most of the night trying to get some punky girl to go home with him. I was getting bored, and the music wasn't all that decent, so I decided to go for a walk around outside and meet up with him after the show ended.
I'm stumbling around the streets surrounding Continental when a man approaches and demands that I give him my shoes. Now, let me explain my situation. We're hard up for cash right now, obviously. But, my shoes? This is the same pair of bright green Doc Martins I've been wearing since highschool. They're old, and they look it. The soles let the rain in, the leather is extraordinarily thin, and the laces are shredded.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this crazed man wants the shoes of yours truly. I, being a perfectly reasonaly and altogether hammered individual, tell him to go fuck himself. I didn't see the four he brought with him.
I shoved him. He shoved back. He threatened to kill me if I didn't give them to him. You're going to spill blood over my old, smelly pair of boots? I think not.
With that, I punched our dear antagonist in the stomach and knee'd him in the face when he bent over. He never saw it coming and he was down for the count before he ever knew what hit him. His nose was bleeding pretty badly, but I don't think it was broken.
That was precisely the moment I realized he'd brought a few friends with him. Four, to be exact. Two of them jumped on my back from behind. I hit the sidewalk face-first. One of them punched me in the back of the head, and I hit the sidewalk again. They stood up, and I crabwalked backwards. I've skated enough in my many years on this planet to have learned how to fall. I was bloodied, but it was but a flesh wound.
In my nearly prone position, one of them kicked me in the face. It glanced off. It hurt, but he barely connected. I think it was more the tread on his shoes than the actual impact. I stood up. One grabbed me from behind in a full nelson.
Ordinarily, I'd have wriggled myself out of such a hold, but a hook connected so hard that I literally saw shiny, metallic things floating in my vision. I pulled my legs up and kicked out. I hit the one who'd hit me. I kicked him right in the shins. The one who had me in the nelson fell backwards. I slammed back onto the pavement and the guy beneath me. I took a kick directly to the side of my temple, and I was out cold.
I woke up in the ambulance. Apparently, our darling group of shoe-theives never bothered to stop beating on me. The show had let out and a roaming band of long-haired metal fellows came to my aid. They called the police. A crowd gathered. Roderick, being the nosey fucker he is, came over for a look. Like I said, I woke up in the ambulance after I spouted several minutes of meaningless psychobabble at Rod.
Got to the hospital and the doctor checked me out. I took four stitches in my palm, three on the inside of my lip, and an additional twelve to close up the back of my head. They kept me overnight for observation.
I hurt. Minor concussion. two black eyes, aching ribs, bruises from head to toe, road-rash on too many part of my battered body, and stitches. I feel like I might have been dragged along main street chained to the bumper of a pick-up truck.. but logic tells me it's probably because I got my ass beat.
But I still have my shoes. |
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| 10:48pm 02/03/2004 |
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I don't want to be buried in a Pet Sematary,
I don't want to live my life again.
I don't want to be buried in a Pet Sematary,
I don't want to live my life again, oh no, oh no
I don't want to live my life again, oh no, oh oh,
I don't want to live my life again, oh no no no
I don't want to live my life again, oh oh.
Pet Semetary by the Ramones
im glad i found some people i could get along with. the people in #rantradio are damn cool and there arent too many assholes. i never thought a chatroom could be filled with people who arent retarded.
i also think im falling in love again but im taking it slow, i dont want to get my heart trampled on like the last bitch. havent talked to her or my dad in a long time. i should call. fuck it, im in too much of a good mood for that.
i still doubt anyone reads this fucking thing, but if you do, know that im surviving, and im not doing too bad anymore. i havent been doing drugs and drinking as much, just a little weed here and there to smooth things over. im done hiding. |
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| 07:23pm 07/02/2004 |
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im still here and id venture to say im doing better than i was. ive been drinking and getting high a lot, but its all in fun. i moved, im not at rod's house anymore. it was nothing big, but i knew his mother wasnt too fond of me from the get-go. im living at jasons house for now and i even have the spare bedroom all to myself for now. its great. i met up with my dad at the liqour store the other night with rod and jay. he pretended i wasnt there, and i did the same. drunken peice of shit that he is. he hasnt changed i guess, but i think i have. im doing ok for now. i even got a job making bagels in the mornings. to anyone following my lj, wish me some fuckin luck. |
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| 10:30pm 15/01/2004 |
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dad,
im sorry for whatever ive done to make you hate me this way. im sorry that i dont call as often as i should, and im sorry that i left in the first place. i hope you have a reason for treating me the way you do because if not, im sorry for everything you've turned into. you were never perfect, neither was i, but i don't have to hurt the people closest to me to make up for it.
im sorry that you never got to become the man you probably dreamt of becoming, but don't worry, sometimes i feel like im following in your footsteps. im sorry that you weren't richer, im sorry you started going gray so early, and im sorry that you hate your job, but these are things that aren't my fault. these are things i cannot change.
im sorry you're so bitter that you can't try to talk things through when i get the balls up to call you. im sorry you're so angry that you'd shut the door in my face and send me walking back through the snow to try and do something with my life. I'm sorry that things are the way they are. But, dad, i understand.
i understand, now, what can drive a man to drink and i understand what its like to lose. i understand that im not what you hoped for, and i understand i probably never could be. its ok by me.
its ok that you don't care and it's ok that im wearing out my welcome here. its ok that i cant come home again and its ok that you said im not your son. it's ok, dad.
when you and mom used to fight and i was very little, i remember how you'd call me a faggot and send me to my room when i got upset. eavesdropping little fag. i remember how i'd shut the door, lock it behind me, and crawl under my bed. i'd try to tune everything out, but i always wound up listening and crying as quietly as i could so i wouldn't incur the anger you directed at her. i forgave myself for being upset.
i remember sometimes when i got fucked with in school because i only had clothes from walmart when the rest of the kids had nikes, and for that, i thank you, for i've learned my lesson in humility well. but dad, you can't blame me for doing poorly in school when i was more concerned with the kids putting gum in my hair and beating me up at recess than i was about school work. my son, who could fuck up a wet dream. i forgave myself for fucking up.
i remember all those times when i got older, cockier, and more apt to tell you how i felt. i remember the things you called me and the things i called you. i remember the coffee cup, i remember the blows, and i remember, as i did when i was little, locking you out of my room, my world and waiting for you to go back to the bar. i forgave myself for pissing you off.
but i will not forgive you.
Ð. |
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| 12:02am 01/01/2004 |
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I wish I was someone else
I'm confused, I'm afraid, I hate the loneliness
And there's nowhere to run to
Nothing makes any sense, but I still try my hardest
Take my hand Please help me man
'Cause I'm looking for something to believe in
And I don't know where to start And I don't know where to begin, to begin
If I was stupid or naive
Trying to achieve what they all call contentness
If people weren't such dicks
and I never made mistakes Then I could find forgiveness
Take my hand Please help me man
'Cause I'm looking for something to believe in
And I don't know where to start And I don't know where to begin, oh no
Something to believe in by the Ramones
Happy New Year |
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| 05:37pm 19/12/2003 |
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im out of here tonight, i cant do it anymore. i know nobody reads this besides the bitch and whoever else she has laughing at me, maybe a few lurkers who just watch every now and again or surf on through looking for pictures and retards and juicy conversations.. so i dont know who this is notice to besides me, but 'screw you guys, im goin' home.' im staying with roderick for a bit, probably for the winter or so, but after that im free to go where i want, when i want, how i want, and with whoever the fuck can keep up. i cant take the bullshit. im repeating myself because i mention that everytime i type on here but ive never done anything about it. fuck it, im done here. here's someone who can explain it all in words far more elegant than my own.
Now let me tell you, sadly.
This is me and my gypsy passion of separation.
All of my life I practiced the science of leaving:
I don’t want to end here, so I’ll begin here.
-Earl S. Braggs.
The city.
ISBN 0938078-75-5 |
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| 03:10pm 29/11/2003 |
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i cant take this shit anymore man. hes such a fucking asshole. fuck. i dont know what im doing putting up with this bullshit man, i fucking hate him. im going to fucking get out of this hellhole one day and im going to fucking revel in it. fuck him. |
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| 11:59pm 02/11/2003 |
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me and rod hung out on halloween, i think im still recovering. it was fucking awesome though, we drank, did some ketamine, smoked a bit and then we both dropped acid once the kids started trick or treating. let me tell you, on acid those kids had the BEST goddamned costumes i've **EVER** seen. |
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| 07:05pm 30/10/2003 |
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what a shitty past two weeks. i dont know what im going to do with myself anymore. i really need to start taking steps to get out of this damned place. that cocksucker fucking threatened to call the cops on me because i was smoking weed in the house. can you believe that shit? he gets shitfaced in the god damned living room and i cant smoke a little weed by myself? i talked to rod the other day. i dont think you met him. we met each other back in jr. high and we hung out everyday for a while, but i havent been around recently so i havent seen him. but i talked to him and we're going to hang out tomorrow (halloween!) and get stoned probably or drink. just what i need. still no word from the bitch. over a month now. things are looking up i think.. cant get worse. |
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| 09:06pm 16/10/2003 |
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I havent talked to the bitch in a long while now. I think i have a little chaos-odometer in my head because all the fucking bullshit i thoughti got rid of with her, i'm getting from my dad. i dont understand why he hates me. im not perfect, far from it i guess, but if I ever have kids i'll make sure i don't drink and shit around them. im old enough that i shouldnt have to feel threatened when there's alcohol around, but its not the beer, its him. we just havent been getting along lately and its to the point where he'll barely utter two words to me, and thats IF he notices im around in the first place. i feel like ive overstayed my welcome in my own home and nobody should have to feel like that but i guess thats the way of the world, right? god i hope not. anyway, im still alive, still breathing, and im sure ill be around again. |
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| 08:12pm 29/09/2003 |
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for the record dont get all upset and call me, oh wonderful people who call me friend because im not going to kill myself, i just wouldnt mind being shot in the head right about now. fuck all of you. stop worrying about my fucking life and find something better to bitch about than wether or not im going to kill myself. fuck all of you, i hate you sometimes as much as i hate her and thats an awful lot. |
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| 04:09pm 29/09/2003 |
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you make me think suicidally. ive always laughed about people who wanted to kill themselves because i thought they were just being cocksuckers but now i think i understand. with a bitch like you for an ex, how in the fuck could someone want to live and risk doing anything as stupid as dating a fucking asshole like you again. fuck you. |
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| 11:33pm 28/09/2003 |
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i wish you would stop playing with my head. first you come to me and cry about how awful your boyfriend is, then you come to my house and do it. now im a jealous asshole because i told you that if your having this many problems you should leave the thick necked asshole. i didnt mean that i wanted you to come back to me. youve hurt me enough thanks. fuck you bitch. |
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| 01:26am 27/09/2003 |
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i felt strange letting you come over to talk to me today and there was a few times i wondered why you were acting so plastic because you never acted like that with me before. i think your never stepping foot in my house again. this was just too wierd. i thought there was a sniper outside the window and you were just there to distract me from looking for him.. because i often check for snipers. youve made me a paranoid mess and for that im pretty sure i hate you and i still hope you die. they should burn you at the stake. |
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| 10:24pm 26/09/2003 |
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i wish you would leave me alone because when you cry i cry and even though id never admit it to anyone but myself i think i still love you. but dont get me wrong i still hope you fucking die. you put me through too much shit and it wasnt fair to me to have to deal with that and now you expect me to cope with you wanting to come back to me and cry and apologize. how can i ever be with someone like you after the shit you put me through. |
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| 09:40pm 25/09/2003 |
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iconoclast putty in an anarchist mold. i guess as an anarchist im supposed to reject authority and go against this fucked up system we live in. is love a system? is hate? is it your place in the system to systematically call me up crying about how much you miss me? is it my place in this glorious system to go whisk you away on a white horse (ok so its a cavalier with 4 popped tires) and carry you into the sunset? well fuck the system. now i bet youll really get your friends to harass me! now i bet ive really pissed you off. its not part of the system to ignore a psychotic bitch when she calls you up crying. fuck the system. fuck you. nazi punks fuck off. |
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| 07:16pm 24/09/2003 |
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so which friend was it that called and left me 4 messages today about how if i do so much as blink in your direction theyll kill me? which friend wants me to know that they will kick my ass? which friend is it that you lied to about talking to me? which friend is it that thinks ive said or done anything to you in the last month i wonder? which friend is it who says "if you do so much as blink in her direction ill kill you"?
BLINK BLINK BITCH! |
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