Charity

People often try to be as kind and inspirational as they can be. They give money, effort, and words to those that hurt and need it. This is a great thing. But there is one problem. One fatal error they commit.

They hide behind their inspirational words and help. They hide the hate they grow in their hearts by masking it with beauty. They are like a masquerade of pitiful souls roaming around an empty hall of sorrow. Humans are naturally great actors. They set themselves on this stage they call life and smile all pretty with their make-up and their hair done all perfect. But inside they are dead. They try to make up for this emptiness by helping other people so people would think they are not empty. But this dark meaningless existence stays consistent in their souls. They let their minds become comfortable in its pool of poisonous reason and they mask themselves and go on their day being okay with it. Even we writers sit on our pedestals and write about love and yet our hearts are full of hatred to one another. Some try to mask their imperfections with perfect verse. They enslave the conscious and wrap tape around its mouth to make sure they can remain in their tainted aura of darkness.

There are too many nice people in this world. We need good people, not nice ones.

FutureSex/LoveSounds: Monday's Research and Added Rant

Sometime around the middle of last week I found Justin Timberlake’s album FutureSex/LoveSounds stuffed under the front seat of the car I recently bought. It was the previous owners but just between you and I, I always preferred JLake on his own.
This may come as quite a shock to some of you that have been visiting my small corner of the internet for a while. I post music here and there so to find that I indeed enjoy a bit of JLake every once and a while might set you on edge. Have no fear. Let me explain.
As I mentioned, I have indeed listened to the album before but never to such a degree as I have in the past week. Since I only have two cd’s I don’t really have much of a choice.
The album itself is brilliant. Except for a few minor things which slowly over time began to drive me fucking insane. They are the following.

1. The word “Yeah” is used a total of 38 times. Approx. 3 times per song.
2. The word “Baby” is used a total of 37 times. Ditto.
3. The word “Girl” is used an astounding total of 95 times. Approx. 8 times per song.

I decided before figuring all of this out that I would exclude the word “Sexy” from my research, since it is indeed contained in the album title.
Yet, I digress.
Jesus H. Christ JLake, what were you thinking? You say “Girl” 95 fucking times. Is that word essential to your album? Do the women in your life have names? Do you own a fucking thesaurus?
Just out of curiosity I used this handy dandy little website called http://www.thesaurus.com/ (which we all know JLake has access to) and found that the word “Girl” has 13 synonyms while “Broad” (which I find much funnier, because who would really use that word in a love song) has 18 synonyms.
JLake, you are a genius but for god sakes please find yourself a thesaurus or someone to sit in while you record a song so that they can find that threshold between hearing you croon “Girl” just enough times and when they hear it so many times they want to pour lava into their ears and run around screaming “MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP!”.

it’s times like these that makes you wanna just run and let yourself be engulfed completely by the mighty waves. 

you’re just waiting to snap like a rubber band pulled to the point of no return, and you lose control of everything that has defined you. every aspect in your life that you deem to have coped to hold everything together stretched on this thin rubber strand. 

everything that mattered to you. at some level. emotions swing like the pendulum of an old clock in clockwork repetition and you’re screaming inside. 

Dear Hipster,

Hey man, how’s it hangin’? I saw you on the street yesterday and after the little “show” you put on, I just wanted to touch base with you about some things you might consider working on.

First, your enormous noise-reduction, studio quality headphones are more than gratuitous. Here’s the issue with noise-reduction headphones: they reduce noise for you, not the other passengers. The secret to noise reduction technology is that it reduces ambient noise by making the music louder, therefore louder for people sitting near you, which, ironically enough, has an uncanny resemblance to fucking noise.

There is literally only one place where you need studio quality headphones: in a studio. Let me make this point clear: you are listening to unreleased Radiohead songs, not mixing them.  You look like you should be hunched over in the back of a van with a reel-to-reel recorder, monitoring phone conversations for the NSA. Unless you’re making beats for Jay-Z or loading a 727 with baggage on the tarmac at O’Hare, headphones of that size and authority are unnecessary, at least in public.

Yours Truely,
Annoyed

Favorite Quote

Drowning

We’re told when it rains, it pours. So we have to learn how to dance in the rain. I’ve learned to do so, but now I’m swimming in the flood. Looking up, each drop plummets directly into my eyes as tears come forth… or perhaps it’s just the rain. I’m waist deep, water swirls around me as I feel like every step forward is deadening. Every movement is resisted. My fingertips graze along the surface as the cohesion pulls at my skin with the friction of fine silk. Now chest deep, my lungs filled with air warmer than my drenched skin and the feeling of being alive and breathing is the only thing that urges that warmth within me. My arms anchored by this relentless weight that surrounds me from all sides, suffocating my energy and freedom. The water clears the top of my head as I struggle for the surface, hoping that perhaps I can catch a break, one little stolen gasp of air to prolong my suffering… then the calm sets in. I’m pulled to the bottom and I can only keep looking up as I hold my breath. The refracting light casting rays of memories down upon my torso. The surface glimmers and it’s light is the last sparse source of beauty and I can’t even reach it. I will never reach it again. The calm stage of observance begins to fade as panic sets in, my last reserves of air in my lungs drift from my lips and glide past my eyes as I see the reflection of fear in the bubbles. My body tenses and searches itself for scarce parcels of life left within me but I’ve already begun to fade. My body goes on with it’s hopeless and primal attempts to not give up, yet my mind has already gone. My eyes fixated on the surace, body movements slowing, and finally peace…

Are these lights growing effulgent or is it just me? Everything in sight becomes a blur as my eyes unwillingly lose focus. My body begins trembling excessively and nothing can seem to bring it to a halt. All of these voices are rushing at me from every direction but I cannot seem to interpret any of them. I hear, “you’re okay sweetie… You’re okay.” Feeling so helpless, next I am gasping for air, as if this serpent has me in a choke hold with his lies and fear. Right when I feel like this is going to take me under, my heart begins to slow until the pounding, pound pound pound, begins to fade. I am left with a weak body, a crazed strand of thoughts, and a streamline of tears making their way clear down my cheek.