I Hate Cows

I have to say it. I hate cows. I had one trapped in my room earlier tonight. It's WINTER! The cows should all be dead. But no, I can hear that fucker buzzing around the window. Damn cows. Always buzzing around your head. You know how if you watch a cow when it lands on you it picks up its hooves and rubs them together? IT'S TASTING YOU! They've managed to ruin just about every picnic I've ever been on. God damn I hate cows.

Vowel Movement

I had quite a productive day today.

In fact, you could say that I had a vowel movement. A warm softserve of my information starfished feverishly into the cup of life called the internet.

You slather my information all about you until possessed with a steaming desire to discuss it further. Soon we vigorously exchange the mucilaginous paste of assimilating knowledge betwixt us.

And lo, though my writings may satiate your deepest hungers, fulfillment arrives only from violently retching the hot splash of semi-processed information back into my eager mind.

Once again the free exchange of thought wriggles down the serpentine tunnels of the mind, imbued with your musky heft of discovery and speckled with the partially consumed nuggets of my original idea.


















Or you could just say I managed to get a lot written.










If you WOULD HAVE said the former, please send me an email with a picture, phrenology measurements for each of the 27 brain organs, and a 200 word essay on how "Teen Wolf, Too" changed your life.

Masks - Part I

We all wear masks. Every one of us, every day. Whether it be for the point of "doing the right thing", or not offending or pretending to be something we're not is irrelevant. The point is that every one of us pretends a little bit each day.

I have anxiety and depression issues. I hesitate to say that "I suffer" from them, as in general I do not. On occasion one of them can flare to a point of discomfort. At such times I have no issue with taking medication to level back out. But I dislike the thought of staying medicated.

Anxiety and depression are deeply intertwined with the funny little creature I like to call me. Lose my anxiety and my energy levels drop. I lose some of the idiosyncrasies of my character that are brought about by my constant fears and paranoias. If my depression is taken away, the cynical side of me somewhat dies. Medicate me and I cease to be me, the voice in my mind that controls my fingers and urges me to create dies out.

So, you take the good with the bad. I'm currently in a bit of a depression swing. As a result my output has lessened over at Bonez. I'm not mired in a sea of self pity or anything like that, just a general malaise and lack of enthusiasm for life. I'm not sad, just...ambivalent. The world has gone gray. A wasteland of banality, devoid of color and almost deafening in its silence. This tends to make me distance myself a bit from those I care about and I generally become a "frump", easily irritated and moody, but never an outright jerk. (That's just not part of my personality.)

But in the interest of keeping up appearances I put on the mask of normalcy. Or, as normal as people expect me to be. (Which honestly, is pretty far from normal.) I trudge into work after an evening of no rest and sleepwalk my way through the day, pushing the appropriate buttons and saying the correct words in order to make time pass as easily as possible. I come home and blindly surf the net or play games.

It's times like this that I just lose my drive and my interest. I apologize for the dearth of posting on my part at the moment and I will no doubt return in the near future. Usually the desire to create will hit and then I'm right back on the wagon.

Those of you who also deal with mental issues will understand. Those that either lack mental issues or choose to ignore them sometimes have a difficult time in understanding why some of us just "switch off" from time to time.

Gory Musicals? I'm In!!!!

I have to admit, this amuses me greatly. I carry in my car at all times the complete scores to no less than 10 musicals. I have a nice collection of extremely gory horror films to boot. I won't even begin to mention my almost encyclopedic knowledge of serial killers. Is it worth pointing out that my neighbor would likely describe me as "Quiet, nice, pretty much kept to himself"?

Appy polly loggies for the lack of updates of late, both here and on Bonez. Had a rough week at work, thanks to our beta schedule and then had to deal with a crash, to boot. I got the computer sorted out. She's gonna need a new hard drive, but I should be able to keep her alive and breathing for another month or two. I have some fun ideas for Bonez. Hope to get them up in the next day or two. Tomorrow is the premiere of Diary of the Dead. :)

Is This Thing On?

My voice is crap. I'm working on a fun little thingamajig for Bonez that involves overdubbing a commercial. I do NOT have an announcer's voice. My voice is rather high pitched and a tad nasally. Couple that with my consuming dislike for being recorded and it's taking me seven trillion takes to get single words like "Plastic" recorded. Oy. I'll just have to keep on trying. Maybe I can work some studio magic and clean up in postproduction. :P

No, There Is No Real Message To Be Found Here

I heard it said once (on The Simpsons of all places) that to a musician, "music is a fire in your belly that comes out your mouth, so you'd better stick an instrument in front of it". Having taken on writing as a more serious prospect than just an occassional hobby, I'm beginning to understand a bit of what they're saying there. As it stands, my writing process is fairly straightforward. I think all day on whatever it is I feel like writing about. Sometimes it's some humorous observation, sometimes it's just something fun, and sometimes something will just happen right there in front of me.

Regardless of where it comes from, the inspiration reaches a point where you're ready to work with it. At that stage I sit down, open Notepad and just let it go. It's usually a pretty easy process for me, it has been most of my life. I just switch my conscious mind off and let my fingers and brain work together to do whatever they're going to do. Some things just flow right off the top of the brain and some need to be worked with, shaped and molded until I find exactly what I was looking for. I've written a handful of things in my day that I consider a smashing success. I'm quite proud of another set and then there's just the rest, not great, not awful, but not really worth taking the time to read.

Normally, once the writing portion is done, I feel almost post orgasmic, more or less drained. Whatever it was that was storming about in my head has left and I find myself feeling rather weak. It's really quite a good thing. On occassion though, it doesn't abate even after the creation is complete. Today is one such day. I wrote my lurid little suicide video piece a couple of hours ago and then expected to just kick back and play some games, or perhaps watch a movie. But my brain is just not allowing that to happen tonight. Even now I'm spewing out more drivel. Yes, I know there's no real point to what's being said here, and to me that's fine. I'm just trying to use up some of that spare energy. I don't want to waste it, but I don't have a clear focal point for it at the moment either. It's kind of lose/lose. If nothing else, it will put words on the page and prove that I do more than just what you see at Bonez.

If you started reading this hoping I would lapse into something humorous or even thought provoking, I hate to disappoint. This is just me expending some energy. Truth be told, even after what I've thrown down here, I still have that feeling. It's early. Guess it's time to work on some of my side projects. Arrivederce.

This Is For You

"I'm waiting for...as soon as the manager leaves, I'm going to ...uh....do it." This is the chilling introduction to the harrowing final three minutes of a young man's life. A final three minutes predicated by a slow descent into mental collapse that was meticulously documented via videotape. The final three minutes of Ricardo Lopez.

January 14, 1996, the 21st birthday of Ricardo Lopez was the beginning of what would be his eight month spiral into the darkest depths of the mind. Already dealing with an unhealthy obsession towards Icelandic singer Bjork, Lopez decided that day to become "the angel of death for her."

So begins the 18 hours of footage detailing his plans, his actions and his motivations. It is a grim glimpse into the mind of someone who is slowly losing their touch with reality. A view of a mind that has become duplicitous, capable of interacting with other people externally in an unnoticable fashion while teeming and seething inside, burning with a desire to destroy both itself and others.

The method of this destruction was to be a bomb, disguised as a book, which he would mail to Bjork. This bomb was designed to spray Bjork in the face with a large payload of acid with the intent of either killing her outright or disfiguring her for life. He chronicled the design, testing and ultimate creation of this bomb over the coming days. The day after mailing this bomb to Bjork, he took his own life, also on camera.

The hours of tapes left by Lopez leave the viewer with a keen insight into the decaying mind of one who is slowly losing their grasp on reality. There is an intimacy to be found, as this man, damaged though he may be, is allowing you, as voyeur, to follow down the path behind him, hoping to give you as a viewer some insight into exactly what motivates him and why he has come to this decision.

These are not easy videos to watch. Reality is far scarier than fiction, and his descent only seeks to emphasize the fact that anybody has the ability to fall just as far. His tapes were created not to establish a cult of personality or to bring himself undue fame and attention. These tapes exist to serve as a warning to others who might find themselves sliding into the same trap as himself.

That he was a victim of a mind beyond his control is apparent in those last few minutes of his life. The stage was set for his actions, and the same meticuolous attention to detail was paid for the final scene. His head was shaved clean of all hair and painted in a set of crimson and green stripes. A hand written sign was placed behind him with the cryptic message "The best of me" scrawled across it. (Popular speculation is that he had intended blood and brain matter to hit the sign after the act, hence the phrase.) With a computer nearby to provide the soundtrack he makes his final statements to the world.

[The song Venus As A Boy plays in the background]

I just want to say, that...uh...my last words. What are my last words? Well, fuck the world, that's my last words. And, uh, fuck Bjork. Her and her nigger loving self. Um, the chances of it [the bomb] being entirely successful, like I said before, I'm not gonna count on it. But, nonetheless, it being out there, I consider it a great venture. Nonetheless, I was gonna die anyway. Not because of her, but...uh...rather because of my own reasons. Um...Let me just check one more time.

[He gets up and adjusts the camera. When the film resumes, I Remember You is playing.]

This death is for you, Bjork. No, excuse me...uh...for you to see it. In some compensation for the pain that I have caused you and or maybe will cause...uh....Everything else in my life that I've fantasized about, I've accomplished.

This is...uh...This is the last song. After this, I'm dead.

He begins to take a series of long, deep breaths, occassionally glancing back at the camera. He seems to be placing himself into a trancelike state, likely to allow his body to perform the physical actions that his mind will resist on instinct alone. After twenty or so breaths, he quickly brings the gun to his mouth, says "This is for you" and pulls the trigger. His body slumps to the floor and the soundtrack goes quiet aside from the sound of the blood leaving his head.

What purpose can this video serve, aside from the ghoulish entertainment of people that you'd rather not meet? It serves two purposes. The first is as a warning. This video allows you to see firsthand what can happen when a mind loses control and proper help is not sought. There is no doubt that Ricardo's fate would have been different, had he gotten the help he obviously needed. The other purpose is to serve as an intimate account of where the mind can go, given the freedom to do so. Ricardo ultimately takes the viewer down the darker paths of life that the majority of us would never tread. But like it or not, those paths are there. To some, it allows for an understanding of the human thought process, of motivation and of the power of the mind to act above the will of its owner.

This final link will take you to the video of Lopez's final moments. It is not excessively bloody or gruesome, but the fact remains that it is still footage of a suicide. It contains the full final three minutes and once again serves as a window into the troubled mind of a disturbed individual.

Link to the video.