Rappers and Employment.

Are mainstream rappers actually subliminal not-so-subliminal narcissists? I mean all they do is talk about how awesome they are and fuck you up if you don’t tell them how awesome they are.

By the way I have a job interview tomorrow for something fucking finally based in journalism. Thing is, it’s in Hertfordshire. If I get the job I’ll probably move there. Not that I mind moving around seeing I’m convinced I don’t have a home, no disrespect to my mother of course. I can’t stay in one place forever when it comes to geography. Cept Madrid. Guh. I fucking love Madrid. But even still that’s debatable.  My issue is not properly fitting in. I can live with that, I just don’t think I can deal with any potential awkwardness. I just have a massive assumption that everyone living there will be living in moderate serenity with a whole load of fucking trees everywhere and it would just be generally quiet. I wouldn’t mind the quietness, just slightly apprehensive about the folk that live there. Not in terms of racism, more ignorance.

I can see it now…


Grandpa Richard- “I believe that is an Indian, my dear.”

Me- “Sup bitches. West Coast motherfucking represent. And I’m not Indian. But you tried. Respect.”

*Me and Grandpa Richard smoke a fat blunt with bitches and ho’s whilst Granny Dorothy twerks in my vicinity.*

Racial stereotyping is such a funny thing.

The Mars Volta- This Apparatus Must Be Unearthed.

I think I need to admit to myself I’m in an incredibly strange place at the minute. I have no idea if it’s a good or bad thing, but I don’t feel that my wavelength is in sync with everyone else and I’ve probably felt like this for the better part of two months now.

Anyway, this song in general kinda explains how I feel. Don’t read into the lyrics too much, Just focus on the instrumentals. This is one of my favourite Mars Volta tracks though.


Sup bruhs.

Sorry, I couldn’t think of anything else to say, I’ve done the whole “I’m soooooooooo sorry, I promise THIS time I’ll be a more frequent blogger bla bla bla”. Truth be told, I just couldn’t be arsed, I couldn’t be fucked for a lot of things. Incredibly bad phase. Whatever. Life is life, we learn from it. Besides, I used to do 7 posts a day on average, so I guess my not being around kinda balances things out.

So again, sup bruhs.

I’ve been in a strange place lately. When I’m not feeling weird, I’m seeing weird shit. I’ve seen a pigeon eat from the carcass of another pigeon a little while ago (By the way, I hate pigeons. Rats with wings I tell ya.) and on my way to the library just before I sat down and started writing this post, I saw a man with dreadlocks. From his beard. I didn’t even know that was a thing. He looked like that fishy fucker from Pirates of the Caribbean 2, you know the octopus looking one. In terms of my thoughts, I may have already stated this, but it’s been weird, weird contemplation. More so than usual of what I’ve already shared. Weird to the point where I’M weirded out.

Then it got me to the whole point of the existence of weird. It’s all subjective, isn’t it? It’s a term used by the individual to describe their discomfort at a piece of information relayed to them in whatever format. What might constitute weirdness to someone may be completely normal or even revered to another. The concept of weird is weird. I feel that genuinely weird people are the ones that are labelled weird by other people, not actively trying themselves to promote they’re weird when nobody else thinks they are. Come to think of it, back in the wonderful teenage years of MySpace, I remember quite a few people going out of their way to be all, “ERHHHH MY GAWD. I’M CRAZY. LOOK. CRAZY. BALA HWIWE AHUEWDJA SJAA!” and then you get talking to them and they’re actually not weird in the slightest, which can be forgiven, I mean, most teenagers living in the first world were dumb fucks, myself included. I made the fatal mistake of assuming I knew everything purely because I knew how to manipulate and rationalise from an early age. I still feel like I’m a dumb fuck. For instance, If you asked me to fix your sink, I wouldn’t know what to do. I definitely still need to improve.  Whenever people compliment me on my blog or professional writing, it’s still shite compared to someone else. I just find it weird that we are all supposed to promote equality and loving one another when at the same time we’re supposed to be competitively ruthless against one another to be where we want to be.

Even the concept of Good and Evil makes me feel strange. I personally think evil is dominant in the world, but it can never explicitly take over, because it relies on the facade of Good. I want the world to be all happy and lovey dovey as much as the next person, but even then that wouldn’t work. Whenever someone genuinely moral and wanting to change the world for the better comes along, they’ll most likely get assassinated, historical events cover a lot of shit based on that so, ya know. So, with the evil people, what drives them? Religious behind closed doors or not, they’ll have their moment of tyranny and then what? If they’re religious, then what’s 50 years compared to a lifetime of being doomed to Hell? With the non-religious driven people, do they do it because they’re mad that there’s nothing for them when they die? Does it bring them glee because they can play a really bad version of God for a little while?

Man. Being sober for ages really gets to you.

Life Lessons Learned Through Doing Fuck All.

These past couple of days have been slightly enlightening. I’ve been drug free for a month now and halfway through my self-imposed ban of having anything which will mess around with my sobriety. Fucking hell, that made me sound like such a hardcore user. Recreational drugs in case you were wondering. Not that I’ve been having anything else prior to the ban. But this being sober thing has made me more contemplative than usual if anything. Maybe if I was being super critical this lack of stonage has made me slightly more bitter. My remarks have been a fair bit more cutting according to some of my friends, so naturally I’d apologise as it wasn’t my intention. Kinda like a watered down version of Frankie Boyle, ‘cept I’m dissing you right in front of your face. Semi-descriptive foreword of my current mind-frame aside, I’ve learned a few things about myself, as well as having some new outlooks towards certain things and people.

1- Death.

A guy that I knew from university died a few days ago. I wasn’t particularly close with him, but from the few meetings I did have with him, I knew this guy was cool as fuck.  He was one of those guys who all the cool kids knew and adored. Naturally he was into drum and bass, which is how we first bonded, but he also had a very inquisitive outlook on things, particularly on the science of space and alternate dimensions and all that jazz. From what little I’ve gathered on his Facebook he seems to have killed himself, which makes perfect sense and at the same time no sense at all. This guy was revered and respected a hell of a lot, but whenever we talked there was an air of poignancy which emanated from him, something I could tell, because obviously, that’s me all over. Maybe his intellect was his downfall.  It got me thinking if it was just blind chance that I’m still here and he isn’t seeing as our wavelengths were eerily similar. I had no idea what went on in his life, he had no idea what goes on in mine, but in some weird way nothing needed to be said because we knew the background purely from our philosophical talks about life.

But the thing that pissed me off over his death was not the fact he took his own life, hey, that was his choice, but it pissed me off as to how people reacted to it. Fair enough people missed and were depressed over his death, but did they have to resort to writing wall posts saying how much he meant to them? I’m sorry but I’m pretty sure he’s not going to log onto his Facebook again, liking your comments saying, “Hey! Thanks guys! I didn’t know you cared so much.” And speaking of likes, I feel like his wall is some kind of fucking “like off” where the soppiest bastard who can get the most tears flowing wins. If I was judging what I was saying from an objective perspective, maybe I’d state that I was being a cunt.  But the way I see it, if people supposedly loved him so, then go to his fucking house and grieve with the family. Go to his funeral. Just spare a thought for the guy, ACTUALLY REMINISCE about him with mutual friends. Hell, if you’re still gonna be on the social media vibe, change your profile picture of you and him together without captioning the damn photo. The way I see it, a wall post that he can’t even read is fucking lazy and is the easy route to offer “condolences”.

Speaking of which, when I die, I will fucking hate you if you post something on my Facebook wall. If you wanna grieve, then grieve. But you’re only getting five minutes to grieve. Do what you want in that five minutes provided you don’t physically harm yourself or others. Cry, break stuff, whatever. But after that five minutes, you stop. And you go be productive with your life. Feel free to have me in your thoughts for the rest of your life, but in no way are you allowed to use my thoughts to do something negative. You had that chance in your five minutes. I’m sure that the term “They wouldn’t want you to cry” in reference to a deceased loved one has been rinsed loads. But it’s true. So I’m telling you this now in my future death and you’re still around: Man the fuck up and find happiness.

2- Naivety. 

“You’re so naive, you don’t know anything about family politics.”

Said to me by a close family relative that isn’t my mother.

But thank you for that obvious statement my friend, but I don’t think you understand. I’m willingly choosing to be naive. I don’t wish to know how family politics work. I don’t wish to play the blame game. I couldn’t give a shit.  Mainly because I’m not that particularly close with a lot of my relatives on the deep scale anyway. For the laughing and joking then yes, I get along with a lot of people. But for when times are tough, I’d say three people in my family, max. Everyone knows I’m different. I’m supposedly some  westernised individual who’s too far gone and doesn’t know his roots. Firstly, I do know my roots. Secondly, I choose not to follow certain things. For instance, arranged marriages to a random girl. No need to go into that because you already got that in your head.  This whole fake thing of seeing distant relatives and them saying, “Oh yeahhh! Come to my house sometime, we’ll have fun!”

Er… This is the first time I’ve seen you in three years. I’m not 12 anymore. I’m not gonna bullshit you and say I will come. Even if I did we would have fuck all to talk about and let’s face it, you really don’t want me to come down in the first place.

Family shit aside, I know I’m naive. I’m still 23. Sure, I might believe I have the mindset of a more mature being once you get past all the shameless perversion and dark humour, but I’m well aware that I still have a fucking lot of shit to learn. I don’t know how a mortgage works. I don’t know what marriage or fatherhood feels like. All that shit.  But rationality and acting appropriately in serious situations? I got that on lock. But even then. I know I’m still naive.

3- God.

Me and The Man upstairs have a complicated relationship. I definitely believe in him. But in terms of my religion, I’m incredibly flawed, particularly at following the physical rules.  Spiritually, I guess I’m there, but in terms of unconditional love and abstaining from quite a few things, it’s definitely not there. I am angered by what He has planned out for the world. I am angered by all this suffering and stuff, but I understand that there is some greater plan. But that doesn’t mean I can’t get pissed off by that. I get all annoyed when I do something good and then think, “Ah yeaaaah, I did something good”, then get overwhelmed by paranoia that I’m actually sinning because I did something good for personal gain and fulfillment. I guess He took the role of my dad, seeing as my one died when I was young and all. I have no idea whether I’m going to heaven or hell. I find it annoying that He already knows, which makes me think my life is fucking pointless sometimes. It pisses me off that regardless of the days I praise or get angered by Him, it means nothing because I am powerless in comparison. I can’t do shit. Many scriptures in religion pretty much state that you should fear God and man, I definitely do. Trust me. Every thing that’s stated as sin is coming to bite me on the ass hard, but the annoying this is that I’ll keep doing what I wish to. Morally, I’m always going to actively try be righteous. I’ll always keep God in my thoughts. I know I should pray, but I rarely do.  Lacking this unconditional love is something that bugs me. It’s a combination of guilt and worry that not having that is condemning me to Hell. But this notion of good and bad pisses me off too, because it feels like some kind of game, made even more annoying by the fact that with all my self confidence in rationality and understanding, I have no fucking idea what His plans are. That pisses me off.  I’m more pissed off by the fact that even after this outburst, I’m not gonna change anything. I know I should, but I’m realistically not gonna be fucked and I will most likely regret it.

I didn’t expect to reflect on these things. I would’ve preferred to come to a conclusion about these things through profound and proactive measures, not by doing fuck all the past few days.

Filling In The Blanks.


Woooah fellow readers, relax. I missed you too.

Well, these past few weeks have been a doozie. Mainly incredibly negative stuff, but hey, such is life. There have been a few good things though, such as my first ever meeting with my first ever blogging friend (now friend, obviously) as well as being generally showered with love and affection from everyone for which I still don’t get what I did to warrant it. Not in a “Oh I suck, stop loving me” way, it’s more a “Dude. I just walked through the door and you’re humping my leg. Da fuck?” kinda way.

Anyway. Negative shit:

-I was in a Romeo and Juliet scenario. Both mutually crazy for each other and she dropped the L bomb. Buuuuuuut that’s dead now because she has one of those traditional psycho dads that picks the husband for his daughter. Few extra weeks of moping and pining and her saying that it can’t happen though she wants it to and that she’s being real with me. I later cut off all contact because there wasn’t any point talking. Not in a dickheaded way. Just that whenever we talk I spout out all the romancey poetic prose at her. So it’s detrimental to the both of us to continue talking and pretend we could have been friends. Definitely one of the hardest decisions I had to make in a while. I’m not gonna go into it much more than that. I hope she moves on quickly and finds a man who she and her family would want. I’ll be fine, I’m kinda used to potential relationships blowing up in my face. I’m probably just gonna be that “close mate who you’d occasionally fuck” kinda person. I guess that outcome would be better than not being noticed at all. Whatever.

-Still jobless. Man this journalism thing is fucking with me. I could easily get another job in something else, but I have too much pride to back out and “settle” for something else. “All or nothing” has been a major thing in my life and it’s still gonna continue. I’m starting to get discerning looks from friends and family alike because of my stance but I very rarely get tamed or conform for other people. There are 2 editorial positions which I’ve applied for, so fingers crossed for that I guess.

- I’m incredibly skint. Not that I spend much anyway, but man. I can’t even not spend much because I’m so skint. I’m bored of doing freebies and work experience anyway. People exploit that shit nowadays.

And the positive shit:

-As mentioned earlier, I met my first ever blogging friend for the very first time last week. It was nice and chilled out, plus I got dry humped by one of her dogs, bearing in mind that she was female. Which is natural, because I obviously make bitches go crazy. I’ve known said blog friend for 2 years, so yeah, it was quite cool to actually be able to hang with a blog pal in reality for once! Long may it continue! P.S if any of y’all wanna hang provided it’s in the UK, give me a shout. It’s not like I have anything better to do. I’m fun…. When I’m not complaining about the world.

- Most of my nearest and dearest are relatively happy, so it’s nice to see that they’re finding something that wants them to keep on living.

Man, these deepish posts fuck me off when I write them. I don’t even know why I do it. I’m fricking 23. I’m supposed to be talking about fucking women whilst driving a Ferrari at 150mph or some shit like that. I dunno. I’ll attempt to write something topical and humourous soon.

Hope y’all are well. What’s new with you?