Clawing holes in the wall with a gardening rake

Well, a bit of good news amidst a period of time feeling nihilistic and numb and deaf and dumb and all sorts of Helen Kellerish. Blind to the outside world, possibly, caught in my own fucking dungeon of self-loathing. A couple of weeks ago I took an exam for the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources, specifically for a Ranger position. Looking to cash in on some Gov't employee money. Found out I passed said exam, which, according to my uncle who is a retired DNR employee, guarantees me an interview. Which means that I'm one step closer to nailing a perfect fucking job. I'll pretty much be a cop within state-owned land (state parks, state forests, Wildlife preserves, etc). I love the outdoors, so this seems like a pretty baller fit. Plus, I can always work my way through the DNR, make a career, that kind of stuff. So that's pretty cool.

I've been working through my self-loathing through the most punishing routines I have ever indulged in. I'm a fat guy. And for a long time, I have no longer wished to be a fat guy, but I have one fatal flaw: I am incredibly lazy. Without the structure of a job or school, I would, if able, do literally nothing. So not only have I started exercising again, to attempt to get down to the size I had through college, where I worked out more, and ate less, and was like 50 pounds skinnier (still fat), but I have done it in a brutal degree. And it feels pretty good. If I'm going to get into shape, I can't just do it casually, I need to punish myself. And, through this ordeal, I have been listening to one of my favorite extreme genres of music: Powerviolence. Take hardcore punk. Then give it some roofies and rape it with grindcore. That's powerviolence. One of the most savage, nigh unlistenable subgenres in the world. And I loves it. Bands like Magrudergrind, Man is the Bastard, Infest, Spazz, Dropdead, Hellnation, Capitalist Casualties, and Charles Bronson. Because in the end, I like my music like I like my women: Fucking crazy. So, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go ballistic for the next half-hour an then pass out.

BRB, Bro

Place holder.  A reminder that I'm not dead.  I've had a lot on my plate recently, and a lot of stuff to think about.  A lot of plans to make.  A lot of alternate plans to make when some things implode and go to shit.  We'll see.  I've got the itch, and it's not crabs this time.  I'm feeling like a big fish in a little pond; if I can just jump this embankment, there's a big ass lake just on the other side.

Here's Frank Turner

Seth Putnam is dead

And it's not that surprising.  Still tragic, seeing has he was only 43.  For those of you who don't know, Seth Putnam was the vocalist for the Grindcore band Anal Cunt.  I'm not a huge Anal Cunt fan.  I don't like their brand of grindcore.  I do like me some grindcore.  But I go ahead and look at the silver lining of Anal Cunt.  Anal Cunt gave rise to a thriving grindcore scene in New England, and for a period of time had one of the greatest musicians in American metal as a member, Scott Hull of Agoraphobic Nosebleed and Pig Destroyer.  I like good grindcore, and Agoraphobic Nosebleed and Pig Destroyer are among the best in my opinion (along with Swedish titans of grindcore Nasum).  Grindcore is a genre of music that is not for everyone.  Definitely not for everyone.  But, I pour one out for Seth Putnam.  He's in the devil's hands now.

But, that's that.  Feeling kinda of weird today.  Brother's graduation party.  My ties to this town are rapidly declining.  It's an introspective kind of feeling.  And I ran into another classmate of mine from high school who is doing better than I am.  But I don't give no fuck about that.  Just feeling, "thinky" in nature.

Seriously, It's Not a Party Unless There is at Least Half As Many Avaible Girls to Total Amount of Men

Friends of mine have a habit of throwing parties.  And these friends have a habit of throwing terrible parties.  No more than eight people, shitty beer, shitty liquor, etc.  But the worst thing, the worst thing, is the lack of girls.  I'm not an incredibly short-sighted fuckwad.  Sure, I'm a fuckwad, but goddamn, I'm considerate.  If I hook up with a girl, I at least check to make sure she's not pregnant... Just kidding.  I wear condoms.  I don't think that the opposite sex is a necessity for a good  party, but it definitely helps.  Playful flirting makes people feel better, loosens the room up.  So this girl I know threw a party tonight.  And there was only one other girl there.  So I bailed.  Hard.  Made up some excuse, and went to a show in Madison.  And I am damn happy that I went.  Two bands  played: Canyons of Static from Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and United Sons of Toil from Madison, Wisconsin.  Both were fucking amazing.  And it was a free show.  Baller as fuck.  So here's some tracks from them.  Enjoy, while I masturbate and pass the fuck out.

Check yourself, Before you Wreck yourself (An Introspection)

So, I went to my youngest brother's high school graduation ceremony today.  It was weird, because I realized I had not set foot in that high school since my other brother graduated.  And I recognized people I had graduated with.  Including this really hot girl.  Who just randomly started talking to me.  And I recognized her, and knew her, but I hadn't talked to her in seven years.  And once again, I felt kind of like a loser.  Living at home, no job, fuck you guys know what I've been saying the entire time.  But while talking to her, I had a moment of clarity.  She doesn't give a fuck.  I don't give a fuck.  So I'm 25 and live at home still, who the fuck cares?  It really not anyone's business, and I don't care about their opinions.  I don't want to live my life the way everyone else does.  I don't want to get some job and toil just because cash rules everything around me.  I want to be challenged, and inspired. I want my life the way I want to, not the way society dictates I should.  And if I have to settle, I'm still doing it the way I want to.  Without giving a fuck.

So, I'm drinking a couple of beers before I head off to a party (lol).  My brother's party is tomorrow, so I'm going to play the part of cool brother all afternoon before I drop in on this girl I know and take a trip to poundtown.  Poundtown is the greatest place in the world.  And here's some music

Album of the Year

Is it a premature boast? Of course. We're only half-way through Twenty-Eleven, but goddamn, this album may very well be the Album of the Year for me. I've been listening to it on my ipod damn near non-stop for the past day and a half.  It's amazing.

I was a little late to the game, only finding Fucked Up in 2008 with their second full-length album The Chemistry of Common Life.  Also an amazing record.  But David Comes to Life tops it.  Words barely allow me to explain it's majesty, so I'll allow my favorite track off of the album to try and do it justice.




Pretty fucking awesome, right?  That's what I've been listening to.  Plus, they've got a bald, hairy, fat guy as a lead singer, so I empathize with that, being a bald, hairy, fat guy myself.  It's a rock opera.  A crazy rock opera.  About some dude name David.  And some shit happens.  Listen, you can sit here and read me talking about how awesome it is, you can listen to this one track and like, but you need to listen to it.  Go, right now.  Stop reading, close my blog, and get it.  I don't even care how.  Just go LISTEN TO THIS FUCKING ALBUM ALREADY! WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?