O:?

Every time I start writing something on this thingy it ends up being way too much of a downer. I don’t mean for it to be that way, so I don’t end up posting it. I’m thinking of adjusting my strategy for the upcoming year. Perhaps turning the curiosity knob more to the left (or was it right?). TGIF (toes go in first). The mapmaker is back in business.

Seclusion is more difficult. Addition of worrisome. Foolish peroxide.

I can’t help it. I need something new.

Wanna scratch my back?

“No.”

It was worth a shot. For the backscratch is the only thing that remains as incredible now as it did 17 years ago. It sucks that everything we once loved loses its appeal. I want to play with Hot Wheels for 45 minutes with my neighbor and not get bored. “Crash!” What a awfully fun game. Awful. And fun. Or be in blockbuster, grab a random movie, pretend it’s a gun, and run away from Austin while shooting him.

When I have fun now, I feel like it’s just a distraction from the real things in life. It’s not substantial in any way. It doesn’t actually provide any fulfillment. I guess that’s really the problem everyone has. What’s the point of it all? Well… I know the point. My point at least. I don’t know if knowing and not being able to get there is worse than not knowing at all. It’s the whole “Love and lost vs. never loved at all” thing. It’s all dependent on the individual. I like where I’m at as much as I don’t.

So Mama Johnson and Papa Johnson met each other in school. I say middle school, could’ve been high school, doesn’t really matter. The fact is that love happened early for them. And that’s sweet as shit. I don’t want to meet my future wife while drunk at a party. I don’t really want to be drunk at a party. At least not right now.

I wonder what’s the coolest thing anyone’s ever done for me.

Chapter 3

FROM MOODOCK:

"That's Walrus."

Indeed there was a walrus on the boat.

Bricks: “You know sailors used to fuck walruses.”

Jonathan: “Have at it.” [Solomon smirks]

Kirk: “He’s wrong.”

Bricks: “Fuck you.”

Captain: “Sol, give me you gun.” [Solomon spits on the ground and smiles]

Captain: “Take note, Mahoney. Your ass is next”

Mahoney: “Captain, when are we leaving?”

Captain: “Why would we leave.”

Mahoney: “Because we’re pirates!” [Bricks draws his sword, Walrus gets scared, Sol shoots Walrus]

Captain: “Hmm”

Kirk: “Damn it, Mahoney”

Captain: “Your ass is next”

Oh God, uh, tater salad.

From Moodock:

Sometimes I tell people that I am excited about the ability to be crazy in old age. Reading what I write makes me think that I am perhaps at that age. I'm not sure I make sense, at least not to others. But that's the enjoyment of it. It's cold today, and if I could get every thought that runs through my brain down I would. Well, what about the thoughts you don't want people to know? Like what? Oh I think X girl is pretty, or X2 girl is pretty, or so on and forth such and on. Or hey, what if I ran X3 girl over like I do on the game video machine? Naw man, she's pretty. It doesn't really matter. Who am I? A student in the Honors program with the HOPE Scholarship? You bet I am. And you lost that bet.

Sometimes when I talk to myself I say things like “Shit yeah.” Then I remember I’m under Mama’s roof. Mama hurt her hand punching me in the ribs and got mad at me for not being fat. I do my best to embrace my America, but apparently I’m a failure.

Have you ever played poker as a misery remedy? Or drank whiskey and hawaiian punch alone while watching professional wrasslin? This tower’s leaning over.

What’s the cure for heartburn? Thanksgiving doesn’t get me excited.

The Throw-up Shirt

November 25, 2009. Only a week until my twenty-first birthday. This is my shirt from Wirt. And my ramen from…mom…en…. I eat way too much of this junk. I love it (he loves it!). My back hurts from poor posture. Writing is supposed to make you live longer, or so I made up. Here we go!

What’s happening in the life of Bradfrey Langford. Is that a bad pen name? Yes

Response: Moodock. My name is Moodock.

What’s happening in the life of Moodock:

Moodock want’s a coke. - 6:45 PM

Moodock is gonna get himself a frakkin coke. - 6:46 PM

Moodock success. - 6:50 PM

On the trip to the dog fridge, I passed 4 of my favorite people. Mama J, Papa J, Georgia Dog, and Raleigh Dog. M and P watchin the T while R and G were watchin the me. Dogs are great. Let’s get 1.

It’s times like these when you realize, “hey!”, I’m a lonely guy. Sitting here. Writing my rhymes. Taking my time. Turns out I drank all the ramen juice. Sodium for days *flicks shirt*.

Is that enough for today? Do I need to leave you with something else? How about one of my posts from old moonshine land. And I don’t mean that in the alcohol. Or that in the hey vampires are cool kids, let’s watch some. You know what I mean. It’s like when you look through the hundreds of Star Wars toys and you think, man, Stormtrooper Luke with removable helmet is still the best. Because everyone wants to be a Stormtrooper, but everyone wants an identity of their own. So wam bam, Stormtrooper Luke. Or Han, if you had brown hair as a child. I did not.

The sidekick doesn't gets the girl.

Somethings gotta give. It seems like it's getting more difficult to fall asleep every night. I'm sitting here on my baby blue sheets with my stained pillow cases reading one of my best friend's set of poems, again. I cry. Again. Guys don't cry. Maybe that's my problem. Maybe that's what's holding me back. I don't think I stopped crying through the the entirety of UP.

And I realize while reading these that I wish I had this ability. The ability to project my mind onto a page while invoking the emotion into others that goes with each of my own feelings. I am not an artist. I cannot painting nor music nor poem. I can spreadsheet and headshot. I am not a contributor to the world. I cannot even write uplifting blog posts. I have a fucking blog that serves no purpose other than to vent my inner frustrations and relive them month after month.

The author of these poems once proclaimed to have been made "A bitter, old man by the carefree and beautiful." He also has told me that this past year has had the same affect on me. Maybe this past year has had that affect on me, but I can feel my old high school mindset coming back to me. It's finally time to move on. The same views I had of relationships prior to college are returning. The same happy innocence that tears me up because I know I'm not everyone. The same wishful thinking of achieving those that are unobtainable. One of these days, motherfucker.

I have learned quite a bit from my experience in college. Much about others, but more about myself. I may not be exactly who I thought I was, but it's only because I'm better than that. Which is kind of awesome. But I'm not here to make everyone's life better either. And that's the real trick. And even if my writing is choppy and doesn't make a whole lot of sense. And even if I start sentences with And. I am who I am.

And I do not regret.

Patience for days

I have nothing to write about, but I can't sleep so here we go. I think I have heartburn. And my stomach is the enemy. I'm going to have a nightmare tonight, it sucks. Maybe that's why I can't sleep. I'm yawning, so I'm tired. Right? I sleep to get through the day, and then I can't sleep through the night. Look man, I'm lonely. Sighs. Skunks are weird.

This is getting stupid.

I've spent my entire life waiting for things to happen. People to do things or for events to occur. Maybe I have more control over things than I think, but I'm pretty sure I don't. I can't change what people think and I can't force myself into sleep. I'll keep waiting.

Someday never comes

Don't look so surprised.

DO IT YE PANSY

I haven't gone crazy, my wife isn't dead. I don't have a wife, so she can't be dead. My hair is falling out, but only because I pull it. I will name my seventh child Pointmore, so that he can turn everything inside out. Everything I like, I've been told to like. Everything I do, I've been told to do. The picture outside my window is beautiful, at least that's what they tell me. Puzzles aren't even that fun.

Memorial Day

I don't know if throughout my life I have been blessed with the most powerful microwaves on the planet but it sure seems like every single set of microwave instructions instructs me to leave my food in for way too long. I don't need my hot pocket to be inside out when I eat it or my chili to overflow down the sides of the microwavable safe container. I just want a decently nuked edible substance.

Birds keep flying onto my window. Glass is actually a pretty cool thing when you think about it.

I think I might be a pretty lazy person, I'll decide later.

Back is peeling, side affect of cruise trip 09. I saw a beautiful girl with a flower in her head taking a picture outside of Margaritaville. A pigeon flew into my stomach. Reality sets in.

Why are ships coming out of the base?

I accidently poked myself in the eye when I was walking to class today. My head itched, so my finger had a good reason for being up there, it was just a little bit off target.

I'm feeling seclusionistic and sleepy. That's one step above the norm (Norm!). Blah Blah Blah. I'm losing interest in everything again. Whoopdeedoo.

It's water time soon. I feel like the bugs are out to get me all the time. The itch is very annoying.

My life isn't really interesting enough to write about.

"What did you do today?"
"Oh I started Mario 64 again, I'm up to 47 stars."
"And what did you do yesterday?"
"Oh I started Ocarina of Time again, I just finished the forest temple"
"And what do you do when you aren't playing nintendo games?"
"I read X-Men comics from the 1960s"
"Interesting..."

The correct answer was: "Nothing"

I'm losing my glow.

"He was a nice boy, a friendly boy, and very shy, and it made him bitter." - The Sun Also Rises

Never at a party, parties are not my place.

"We're on the right track, a slight misstep on the road to awesomeness."
I may have missed my turn.

The ability to foresee the future does not prevent the oncoming unhappiness.

I'm not really unhappy. Just bored. And bitter. I'm not these people. What happened to me? I'm sick. It doesn't help. And I'm purposeless.

Be content. Live through other people's happiness. Everybody is free to feel good. Hug your mother. Tell your dad you love him. Tell your family you're proud of them. Spend time with your friends. Abandon artificial happiness. Run with your dogs. Get sunburned. Smile.

I love my friends. I just don't care for parties. My lungs hurt. Really bad actually. Bad day. Overall I think people had fun. Not sure I contributed this time. Failure. It might be time to retire. Hang up my boots. I don't like alcohol. I don't like parties. I don't really like weekends. I don't really like school. I'm not sure I'm looking forward to anything. I'm not sure I like people. I will be better. I'm not even sure what that means.


In the morrow, homeward bound. It should be a beautiful day.

Impending

In my dream again last night. Except this time it was halloween. I don't remember what my costume was. You were both cowboys. A 2 year old said "They took our jaerbs" and I laughed louder than I ever have in real life. I hoped you would realize that you could talk to me. Nope. Closing in on two years. Do I even care anymore? Not a whole lot. The idea of what things could of been, my own personal fantasy, is what keeps getting to me. Plus the random memories of pure happiness. Maybe unobtainable again. I'm not sad. I'm blank. I see my life ahead of me and nothing is exciting.

I am thirty, living in a one room apartment in the city by myself. I get paid more than enough money for my lifestyle. I enjoy working fine, it gives me something to do. A game of sorts. I am not married, nor do I have a girlfriend. This will not change. I am content.

I am thirty, living in a house in the suburbs with my wife and two children. They are spoiled. I make a lot of money, but I am not the one who spends it. I am away from my family most of the time. When I am home, my wife gets on my nerves. I think one of my children may be crazy. I still don't understand other people. I go through the motions. I am content.

I am twenty-three and the world ends while I am asleep. I dream about an English class that I have not attended all semester and end up failing. I panic. You laugh at me and it makes me smile. I am content.

I am thirty, living in a small, yellow house in a small town I didn't grow up in. I don't make a whole lot of money, but it doesn't matter. I go to the high school football games on Friday. I don't have a child on the team. I don't have children. I am married to someone I love. I still enjoy blizzards from Dairy Queen. I am content.

I am thirty, living in my parents basement. I work at the video rental place on the corner. I have for five years. I have read every X-Men comic in existence. I've given up. I am content.

I am twenty, living entirely off of my parents while I attend college. I am majoring in a field that I hope I will be interested in. I see these people and I don't want children. I'm beginning to think that everyone is crazy. I get through the days watching TV and playing video games. Every now and then I make a half-hearted attempt at finding a job. I don't believe that anything is as great as you want it to be, and once you have it you will most likely be disappointed. Still strive, because it's better than not. I am content.

Grow up

I'm really, really tired of people taking my stuff without asking. I almost always say yes if you ask me for something, but it really pisses me off when I see change missing from my desk when I wake up. I notice. Stop doing it.

Inanity

The taste of grape juice and pickled okra masked by cinnamon toothpaste is better than that of flaming hot cheeto vomit. This is what comes out when I can't put my real thoughts into words. I could not be a writer. I'm done with this day. Next.

Days

Flash in the Pan

I don't know if I'm happy with this anymore. I just got back from a party. A party which should have been a lot of fun. All of my close friends were there, and I had been excited about it for weeks. As it turns out, I did not really enjoy it. Sure I enjoy seeing and talking to everybody, but the truth is I don't like the pattern that we have established for ourselves. I'm tired of spending fortunes on alcohol that doesn't taste good and makes me feel like shit. I've lost the enjoyment of sloshing around from person to person, saying random things to kill time or just trying to get someone to smile. I don't like seeing attractive girls make fools of themselves or realizing that it's near impossible for me to actually meet someone that I will be legitimately interested in in this kind of environment. The problem is, I don't know what else to do. This is what we do now. This is our social interaction, and I don't see it changing for the next three years.

But really, this isn't about girls or my love-longing lifestyle. I just don't think I like the life I live. I loved life my senior year of high school, but unfortunate circumstances ruined my way of thinking right before college started. Now I'm beginning to realize how much I hate what I am again. Will I change? Probably not. I don't think I can. I'll head home tomorrow and take the rest of the weekend off away from everybody, but chances are in a few weeks I'll be right back where I am now. Hoping for things to be different, even though they never will be.

The Year of Recovery

2009.

Homer's Five Step Process in making 2009 the best year ever
Step 1. Drink whiskey, run far
Step 2: Wrestle wild animal.
Step 3: Drink with 2x larger person.
Step 4: Wrestle 2x larger person.
Step 5: Damn few.

This is it, the year that will turn me into the best person I have ever been in my life. I'm going to dominate this year. I'm going to work harder at everything, I'm going to be better at every single thing I do. I'm more motivated than I've ever been. I'll wake up early every day like I normal human for the first time in my life. I'm going to exercise more often, eat better, study harder, and run faster.

The mindset I have going into this year is completely different than the one I had going into the last year. I'm not worried about "maintaining happiness" or whatever I was most concerned with last year. I feel like I've grown up a lot in the past year. I know what needs to be done, and I'm going to do it. I'm not a child anymore. I can't complain when things turn sour, I just have to keep going. I'm in a good place right now. A few things need to be adjusted, but overall I'm okay. I have good friends and I go to a good school. I'm excited.