Last Login: 04/22/2009 10:51 pm
Registered: 11/03/2005
Location: Fran Sanfrisco
Birthday: 01/02/1990
O HAI.
I am Count Wolfenstein. I am a creepycreepy gaian villain doing things to either shock you or make you LOL depending on what kind of person you are.
I appreciate your randomness...most of the time.
THAT IS ALL.
Bitches love me
View All Comments
I moved about six months ago. I'm still in the same area, but you could see so many stars at my other house compared to this one.
What are you majoring in?
To answer your question, I get high and go visit my friends, write (for myself or for the publication we started together, either way I am living out my dream), play videogames, mostly old games, old PlayStation RPGs lately. Reliving the childhood sort of thing, I guess. I can tell it's getting stale, though. And I'll have to find a new hobby soon.
I have a wonderful partner and spending time with her is really the best part of any day because she's such a good friend and puts me at ease. I don't need to drink or do drugs to feel that elation when she is around because she stands alone as a good thing but then they only serve to cheapen my experience of her. Pollute it, really. She's like a rare, expensive rum that you wouldn't want to mix with anything else at the risk of tainting the virtue of its purity. She's more fun than anything else I do - on par with writing and getting paid for it, which, when that happens, is greater than or equal to the best sexual experience you'll ever have. And that's hardly an exaggeration.
I love to get out into nature, with a hike or to fish. We have good trails here in this spiritless Appalachian town, and they have lots of views and flora throughout them.
I play music with my writer friend occasionally. After you do it enough, it's just like writing in its structure and how the brain tends to put it together.
I can't wait to move. I am dead here, like everyone else. I want out so ******** badly, but the scary thought that creeps back into my mind is that it'll be like this anywhere I go - deflated and disappointing. The excitement of drinking young thinking something awesome was right around the corner has exhausted itself and turned into a grim new assessment of what things always are and always will be. Or so I fear. My life is stagnant and newspapers are either dead or dying. I have no future in my dreams, and it casts a shadow over everything I do. ********. I think that's the truth, man.
I don't know what things are like on your side of the Mississippi, but here in this sorry state that I live in, hyposensitivity is not something we would concern ourselves with. It's a bothersome notion that "people don't care" but when did they ever? Hypersensitivity to these cold, hard facts of life is a direct result of your over-analyzation of [all that s**t you mentioned earlier] and how that fits in with your everyday life. I mean, I don't deny my own sensitivity by acknowledging it and knowing its limits, but there is an uncomfortable number of people who truly don't know the score of their own ball-game and this creates problems in situations demanding of a crucial level of detail consistently provided by people with a constant bearing on their own sense of relevance to their immediate existence, no matter how small it is compared to the fractal cosmos. Like in journalism, or a panel of mechanical engineers.
I know nothing of "Vector" but it sounds like some god-awful predatory stock-circular scheme with an ambiguous name attached to it. Probably fraudulent, too, by the way they've been treating you. Nothing called Vector has helped or ever will help bring money to the people who need it, anyway. Call in some bomb-threats and see if they have any buildings worth evacuating. This won't prove anything, but should be good for a laugh.
That sounds amazing. Why did you move?
It's pretty dark where I live if you wait until around midnight when everyone's asleep.
I actually want to name my kids after the stars, or names that mean star.
Why did she stop writing?
It's fine. I don't mind.