Hoka-Hey There

So, the Fuck-You Fairy took a shit in my mouth and left Monday morning under my pillow. Better than the Tooth Fairy breaking all my teeth and stealing my money, I guess. Hoka-Hey. Today is a good day to die. Again. I have learned that your degree of daily misery is really all a matter of perspective. My perspective, right now, is that I can at least eat the stale pizza crusts out of the carton, for breakfast, while some African individual starves to death. I guess I am living the life in the here and now, people. Balloons and streamers.

I have also realized that life hits me like a case of the plague every once in a while. I am one of those people whose brain surgeon will go “oops” in the midst of the most crucial moment, or whose tattooist will sneeze just as he is putting the finishing touches on the mighty wolf on your chest, making it cross-eyed for all eternity. It’s not “Murphy’s Law”, it’s my fucking law: The Law of Me. It’s not so much that “anything that can go wrong will do so at the most inopportune moment”, no, it is more a case of me trying to stay under the Radar of Life, because if I get caught living, even a little, I will get fucked up. A lot.

It’s hard for me to stay under the radar, though, because I pick fights with everybody. All the time. I guess I am just a bad person. I stand out in a crowd. Not because I look better, or worse than anybody else. Or because I wear outlandish clothes or wear too much cologne. No, I stand out because I am the guy sitting on top of your boyfriend, bashing his head against the sidewalk while cursing his mother. He probably just bumped into me, or pointed out that I was checking you out. I have a short temper with my surroundings and I am trying to work on it. I have tried therapy, smoking pot, drawing strange pictures and shouting at the ocean. In the end I have come to the conclusion that the best way of dealing with my temper and my inner demons is to bash people’s heads against the sidewalk, both literally and figuratively. We all have our “thing”, right? As long as our “things” don’t cross paths we will all be fine, because my thing will break every bone in your thing’s face.

I came across the Dead Rebel Society a while ago, googling twisted porn and finding an article by Rosie that had nothing to do with porn. Deprived of an outlet for rape fantasies, I read some of the other articles and got hooked. Some of these people were thinking along my lines, while others sucked, but it made me want to write. So, here I am, at the expense of some people that left. I have a lot on my mind, and most of it is not so very kosher, but I guess that is what this website is all about, after all. I will have to get used to having an “editor”, and sending in stuff to be read and criticized by one and all, but I have one up on all of you in the end anyway, no matter what:

I don’t give a fuck about any of you.

Not a single one.

The only opinion that matters to me is my own. Whether you love it, or hate it, it won’t change my miserable life one iota either way. You are all dead to me.

Hoka-Hey, people.

It is a good day to die.

Every day.

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Ash