…and finally, here’s a piece of helpmail that made it a whole lot easier for me to let go of Blognigger.
Note that I spoke with the sender of the following email via gayChat shortly after receiving her letter. This is because I’m a gigantic pussy and have no ability to turn my back on people like this, which is part of my whole problem. The sender and I talked for a very long time. She’s getting better and seeking medical attention, which is exactly what you should do if you relate to her email in any way.
…and finally, here’s a piece of helpmail that made it a whole lot easier for me to let go of Blognigger.
Note that I spoke with the sender of the following email via gayChat shortly after receiving her letter. This is because I’m a gigantic pussy and have no ability to turn my back on people like this, which is part of my whole problem. The sender and I talked for a very long time. She’s getting better and seeking medical attention, which is exactly what you should do if you relate to her email in any way.
There’s no shame in seeing doctors and seeking help for your problems. I would be dead if it weren’t for Prozac and a really obnoxious rich Jewish doctor who I didn’t trust and still don’t.
Astute Reader tt writes:
Hey blognigger I’ve been reading you since the first streetboners link not article, and i gotta turn to you now because i don’t know where else to go. Youre ask lexapro post really talked right to me because that is exacty exactly exactly what I am going through right now. Did you have anyone in mind when you wrote that, other than yourself i mean? Like, I’m pretty sure that my doctor or my parents could have written to ask you to write that? If you say they didn’t that is totally cool, and i’d believe YOu, but that is definitely sounds like the kind of thing they would do, and the post is so about me directly that it just seems like a little bit of a coincidence you know?
My deal is that I’m about to graduate school this year, i’m 18 and still live at home of course which also may be a big part of the problem. I’ve been taking anti-depressants forever, since i was 12 and i’ve tried every single one. wellbutrin effexor lexapro ect. they help buy not altogether. My main problem is that I don’t get anything out of life and when I think that i’m 18 and I’m supposed to live to be 90 I panic. that’s the part i bet my doctor asked you to write, if you say she didn’t she didn’t. i think of having to live, which is just about so miserable and i think how can i possibly even live for a year, but 70 more years??? i get sweaty just thinking about it right now. my parents are, i don’t believe that they love me for a second. my mom does but. they want me to see doctors, they wont let me see the friends i want to see just because they dont go to my school or their older, did this happen to you? how did you deal with that? that;s one of the things I wanted to know most. i dont get to do anything i want to do, the secret is that even when i do the things i want to do i’m still depressed, and my dad is a yelling fagit asshole who basically wishes i was dead. i’m skinny and disgusting with no tits and my hair is like a broom. don’t tell anyone.
my dad keeps telling me that if i dont go to college and work and pull myself together that no one will want me and i’ll be miserable for ever. i honestly dont think he means well, i know he’s an asshole and my mom hates him deep down. he doesn’t hit her or anything but growing up with them was hard as shit. he’s such a fucking abusive asshole you don’t even know. when those guys talk about kurt kobain, i don’t even know. something about that calls to me, you know not trying to feel sorry for myself and i dont want to die but. it’s like when you commit suicide its the ultimate message, the only real way to get thru to everyone how fucked up they are and how mean they have been. I wouldnt do it, i’m not going to commit suicide, but it jst seems like that is the one thing which really would show everynoe. You have to admit that its the ultimate. can you honestly say you took kurt kobain seriously before he killed himself? i wasnt old enough but. i mean, he was prob. another rockstar and now hes an alltime legend who put his money where his mouth is. sometimes i think of what my dad would have to do if i did it, like my mom would leave him because she would just know what he had done and how far he had pushed me.
I’m not killing myself, i’m just saying that i think about it because i would give anything to get to see the looks on their faces. I couldn’t anyway but. Is there anything you can tell me? you’re lucky lexapro fixed everything for you but it didn’t for me. do you know any other drug like medical marijuana or something else that maybe their keeping from me that might help. i’m sorry to come to you with all this, i know that you dont have a lot of time and have your own problems, so let me know if you don’t have time to answer.
also please just tell me whether anyone here wrote you, i swear to god i wont say that you told me, i can keep secrets as you can see. this is also crazy but if i manage to leave home and can make it to nyc (i’m in sandsprings OK) do you know anyone i could stay with for a day or two while i found a place – i know you have kids so you might not have room, but if you know anyone even for a day or two it might really help. thanks blognigger, please keep up the awesome blogging, it is like one of the best things in my life with streetboners and vice and failblog. write back when you can, remember to please tell me if you don’t have the time, i promise i will understand and stop bothering you. thank you for listening.
tt
Hello tt,
My formal answer is that I’m not a doctor, and so I can’t offer you any advice whatsoever. You need to call 911 and seek medical attention immediately. Trust Jesus, your parents, and your doctors IN THAT ORDER.
Therefore, this isn’t an answer, but it’s nonetheless a response to your question:
When I was nineteen and a sophomore in college, I lived in a disgusting little vegetarian co-op like a faggot. I had a couple of beanbag chairs in a shitty little room that always smelled like semen tissues (the room not the beanbag chairs).
Anyway, one day I was taking bong hits with my hippie retard roommate. He always had great marijuana – it’d be an insult to call it “weed.” It was 1994 and so we called it “the dank” – dank like the heavy mist of might-as-well-be-a-dorm-room semen tissues.
I can’t believe how much weed we used to smoke: big cheezy graffix-blue tubes of thick white smoke, all packed in there! packed! And we kept passing it back and forth! Nowadays, if I take a tiny little hit off my one-hitter I end up playing Guitar Hero on the moon for three hours before remembering to swallow. But that’s about getting older; you kids don’t wanna hear it.
So I was taking these big bong hits when the phone rang. I couldn’t get out of the beanbag chair, but my spritely faggot roommate could. He handed me the phone, and it was my sister. She was crying. Oh no, is it Mom? It’s Dad, right? Grampa?
Kurt Cobain just shot himself.
She was still back in New York City, sixteen years old, ready to go to the Meadow and attend the vigils and light all the candles and smoke more weed. Not me; I couldn’t give a fuck.
But I did have one thought that has ended up making a lasting impression on me:
Wow; he was for real.
Something about what he did, to my wrinkled stoned 18-year-old mind – it just seemed so authentic, so respectable; so punk-rock.
I never looked at him the same way, and I still don’t.
Five years and fifteen days later, I was a software engineer working near Berkeley in an office in Emeryville California. It was 1999 and we were using netscape 3. But that’s about getting older; you kids don’t wanna hear it.
One of the engineers said:
Yo check this shit out man hit cnn.com
420 bro, right on – it was Berkeley on April 20th 1999, so everyone in my dotcom office had wake n’ baked together in our conference room that morning. Not so for those kids at Columbine man – they skipped 420 – can’t be staring at the air molecules between your nose and your TEC-9 when you’ve got a fucking school to storm.
Stoned, I thought about them:
Somebody finally did it; “All jocks stand up.”
I watched the footage of Columbine over and over. Read their diaries. Played their doom .wad level. Did what they wanted me to do. This time I was 23. Something about what they did – it just seemed so authentic, so respectable; so punk-rock.
Two years later, after getting home safely from the burning twin towers on 9/11, I was sitting at home watching the encore presentations on TV when this thought came to my head:
That was your punishment for thinking Columbine was cool.
Are you the same person when you’re 30 as you are when you’re 20? You are and you’re not.
I see everything now through the lens of having children. Kurt Cobain is a selfish cunt who left his daughter to grow up without him. Dylan and Eric are monsters who killed other people’s babies. It’s a fucking sin. I’m embarrassed and ashamed of my former self. But that’s about getting older.
A good friend of mine – talented writer who calls herself vane$$a – she offered me some very good advice on this subject:
One thing you have to remember about suicide is that when most people do it, something snaps in their brain which makes it almost impossible to not do it. It has nothing to do with selfishness or being an attention whore or whatever else. It’s a direct result of real mental illness.
…When someone’s going to do it, the most compelling voice in the world enters their head and starts telling them that it’s not only the right thing to do, but also the only thing to do. Once that voice enters your head, you don’t give a fuck what anyone else thinks. It’s just between you and the voice.
…if you’re all alone and cross a certain threshold, I believe that there’s almost no going back. In this way, suicide is not a deliberate, calculated act. It’s a symptom of a disease just like sneezing is a symptom of a cold. That’s why I could never feel disdain for anyone who’s committed suicide.
I believe she’s right; that is to say, there’s a difference between committing suicide because you can’t bear the pain of life, and doing it because you want to teach your dad a lesson and become Ann Hiro.
I wonder if Kurt was very sick or wanted to be an hero.
I don’t know about Kurt, but tt, my Astute Reader: it’s obvious to me that you were flirting with suicide just to teach your dad a lesson. You don’t really want to die.
Listen, it’s true that you could destroy his life, but YOU MOST LIKELY WOULD NOT BE ABLE TO ENJOY IT. Kill yourself and one of three things will happen:
a) Most likely: nothing at all – lights out and you’re done. Journey soundtrack stops; FAIL; you’ve enjoyed nothing. And in case you’re swayed somehow by the possibility of people worshipping you after you’re dead? Ha – forget it! Why don’t you go write and direct Pulp Fiction? Too late – been done. Look at the jerkoffs who shoot up a bunch of people and kill themselves NOWADAYS – they get less than a week of fame! I already forgot about this faggot. If this is the outcome, ya can’t possibly think it’s worth it to do this in 2009.
b) Even in the case where you become an invisible ghost, which probably will NOT happen, you most likely would be not allowed to attend your own funeral since “they” would have you working as a civil servant as per the Beetlejuice Rules which also happen to be almost universally accepted by all religions – believe it or not! (And remember, even gay science says you would not be able to enjoy it, as you would be “dead.”)
c) Best case scenario, .000000000001% likelihood: You blow your brains out and turn into a ghost and get to haunt your dad and watch him cry and scream and maybe die alone in his piss and blood.
If you ACTUALLY saw this, you would probably end up feeling bad for him, and then you’d be trapped in the invisible realm like Patrick Swayze!!! No way to get to him. Horrible!!!
Additionally, if it helps, I will now reveal the meaning of life: The meaning of life is to raise children. It’s extremely obvious once you’re doing it, I swear. It’s a lot easier if you have a stable home and income – so work toward getting that. Get medication and concentrate!
In the meantime, while you’re working toward that, you have one fucking life to enjoy shit like youtube, music, orgasms, and Fruity Pebbles. Do that! And life gets easier! Being 18 sucks!! It sucks shit, but don’t kill yourself because a) I swear to christ it gets better and b) you DON’T KNOW what comes next! Right?! You might as well stick around in case the next thing is just lying in a box and getting eaten by worms and you just have to sit there with your head blown off in the casket with the worms being like – “meh, I should have just lived it out cause this part is GAY.”
Ok? Who else do I have to save?
For the other kids, kids who are not trying to be an hero but just are beyond miserable: If you are hearing voices, or you can’t stand life for another second, just know that I’VE BEEN THERE, and so have some of the best people ever – not just my worthless faggot ass. Only the really sick ones kill themselves, and they miss out on so much. So much. EYES ON THE PRIZE!! GET A STABLE HOME AND TURN 30 AND MAKE CHILDREN!
Who else?! Who’s next??
How about you: If you’re already 30 or 40 or 50 and you have no kids and no mate, and you’re dying from lonliness, STOP BEING SO DEMANDING! go to match.com and stop pretending it’s a porn site! Click on girls that are your level, not the fucking models you’ll never get! They may be fake anyway! Have an honest friend assign you an integer value based on your looks, and go search for someone with that value. Get a companion! It’s so much easier! Have some love! Marry a pig and go get handjobs from hot chicks instead. You know how lucky that girl would be to get you? She’ll worship you! Why does the wife have to be Alicia fucking Silverstone?! Why do you insist on being alone!?
Who else? Suicidal? Go find your loved ones! Go to your friends!
Come to us! And by us I mean them! SC wants you around! Gavin wants you around! Can’t afford to lose another reader, another click, more traffic! I, on the other hand, do have to hit the road for a bit. This shit has gotten too dark and dank for me to untangle for the time being. Until further notice, please do address your suicide letters to a Mr. James Goad [at] streetcarnage dot com. He’s better than me in every way; I’m a liar and a thief – why do you care what I think? Jimothy Goad: No matter what goes down, when all is said and done, that guy totally fucking rules.
Wow.
I totally want to live, like forever, now.
Fuck.
Thanks.
“Have some love.”
Alas, he was the best of us….
Enjoy life on the road Niggy.
epic
Whoa, well said. I’m so glad that I have never battled depression. And its nice to hear someone who isn’t absolutely against therapy and medication! People who refuse to help themselves really bother me.. yet at the same time I realize that is part of depression (the unwillingness to help yourself).
That was amazing. Another gold fucking star.
Crying, what a man. I would love to hang out with blognigger and Jim Goad, not like an intense drinking situation, but more like a lazy Saturday afternoon (I believe Sundays are for the girlfriends). How do you say this where everything gets picked apart, maybe a post-racial/post-redneck situation; a humane situation. Anyway, thanks for the amazing post, and thanks for the opportunity for me to share. Blognigger made my day. Much love.
Out in Sandersville, GA—birthplace of Elijah Muhammad—the Goads send positive, melanin-deprived vibes to the Blognigger family.
http://www.jimgoad.net/YaBBImages/sandersvillexmasgoads.jpg
You are amazing. I actually almost got misty from your advice. I lost my sister to suicide when I was 20 who had SOO much to live for and it nearly killed my parents. I never ever think about it anymore because it sucks so bad, but I wish I could’ve said some of the advice yo just said to her, because its true. Thank you for being a cool dad.
also, tom cruise was absolutely correct. “vitamins and exercise”, folks. it’s almost that simple. it may not be the answer for hardcore chemical imbalance depression. though it helps with that kind of depression too. but it really works for the garden variety depression that we all go through. took a multi and skated the ballard bowl every chance i got and i haven’t been depressed since. suicide is a mistake.
I really hope you return soon. Something about your prolific output points to a need to write and interact with others through writing, so me thinks you will return to us soon. And you are right about the meaning of life. Once you start raising rug-rats there is no more room for navel gazing and obsessive self-analysis. You may never entirely shed the self-loathing part of your psyche, but instead of letting it get you down, you look at your babies and think, I am going to be a better, happier person for them. All these 30-38 year NYC party girls and boys better start saving for therapy and meds unless they settle down soon, sorry its true. And so spot-on about looking for your “match.” Everyone thinks they deserve to be with Antonio Sabato Jr and Eva Mendes or some shit, esp. in NY.
thanks again bn (hopefully not my last thanks for you) don’t stay gone forever…
ps is there really going to be an Ask Jim Goad column or was that just thrown out there, because I really hope that is forrealzibub
ha ha don’t kill yourself cuz you’re meant to have kids (sure, create another person so they can feel the same pain/horror/fear/disappointment you do) and cuz Vice culture needs more webhits… good advice
ugh, way too long. stopped reading after one paragraph.
BN never ceases to impress me with his worldly wisdom. This may have been his best column–certainly was his most inspirational. I think even the fact that religion was respectfully absent from this column was well-done. The points he made regarding life and the blessings/luck/thumbs up one can find from it was highlighted nicely. If I stood up, you would see how excited I am right now.
edit:
but I guess that’s about all I could expect from someone who tells us to trust “Jesus”
Your loss, zeb… your fucking stupid-ass ignorant cunt of a loss.
most people who try to kill themselves fail to do so…so really the main result is having some kind of permanent disability after the attempt…
This made my day, thanks BN
I have nothing snarky to say.
A brilliant send off. Farewell BlogNigger.
DONT LEAVE ME BLOGNIGGER. please. you are amazing.
Nice post, good luck on the road my friend.
Wow. Amazing. I’m virtually speechless. The tears are a flowing. Congratulations my friend. Your swan song is a masterpiece. Best of luck as you embark on the next stage of your life. You really “did it.” Remind me to tell you my Columbine story some time. It’s a doozy.
And don’t forget to check your mail, sweetie. Your coupon for the free blow-job is on the way as promised. In case you ever need to redeem it, (yes I KNOW you’re married) I’ll start doing my jaw stretching exercises tonight.
Give me a ring-a-ding-ding when you get a chance. Will you? I’ve got something MAJOR I need to tell you.
Hey tt, you are incredibly fortunate and smart to have taken your dilemma to a wise dude like Blognigger. I’m sure you’ll be okay, and in all seriousness, remember that you’re not going through anything that so many of us haven’t already been through and survived. I promise you, a better day looms.
Hugs and Kisses,
V$$
aw, i really want to read this but i went to public school during the bush administration so now i need adderall to make easy mac. i almost starve to death every day. anyway, can some one put together like an anthology of the ( abridged) blognigger hits? like BN sparknotes ? i would gladly repay you in nothing.
whoa. this was really good and actually helped me out in a bad time. thank you.
Well said, Blognigger! Rings true.
wait, wait, wait, …so i actually went back and read this and, um, that was kinda crap advice. yeah, its easy to tell an eighteen year old not to kill themselves cuz they’ve got plenty to live for, you don’t really want to kill yourself you just want daddy to notice you,blah, bla, blah. when your eighteen shit could still totally turn itself around, you could join the faggot ass peace corps and de worm orphans in zimbabwe and realize how good you have it or meet tibetan monks and realize the true meaning of live or whatever, plus you fucking eighteen, you can stay awake for days and fuck for hours and live off nothing but wendys for weeks and not get fat or gross, that ability in itself should be impetus to not kill yourself. but the whole stay alive so can reach 30 and rear 2.5 kids with your soul mate idea? what the fuck??? what about the whole mid life crisis off yourself? the most depressed people i have ever met are middle aged, with paid off mortgages and silver aniverseries and kids with 3.8 gpas in 2nd tier colleges and six digit incomes. why are they depressed? is just because they never got to tour with the dolls or win a pullitzer prize or the like? why do middle aged guys love ground hog day so much? that cant be a good sign! fuck, even Gatsby offed himself at the end. what is the point of it all?????? LET ME SAY THE N-WORD IM NOT REALLY WHITE. well, now im spent. piece.
please don’t go
I always agree with pretty much everything BN says, except for the part about kids. “The meaning of life is to raise children”?! Really? I hope not. I think you’re spreading a misconception nearly as dangerous as “being gay will give you AIDS.” Not everyone has to have kids and certainly not everyone should. Especially not that fat bitch I saw walking down Graham Ave driving her fist into a screaming stroller. There are so many other reasons not to have kids.
Once again, marginal article with generic re-hashed advice and decent flow. Pretty boring overall, except for his thoughts about the Columbine kids (what a fucking idiot). So which is it BN??? Carefree hustler getting fucked by every little white chick you met as a young man, or a socially ackward youth clinging to anger and despair who “hates jocks”??? I call bullshit.
You’re calling bullshit on a comedy web-site? Get a life, you fucking dickweed.
a work. nothing more.
HEY I’M CONFUSED, DID I CLICK ON BLOGNIGGER OR DID I CLICK ON SOME EMO KID’S MYSPACE PAGE? BECAUSE THIS WAS SELF-PITYING GARBAGE. THE KID IN THE ORIGINAL LETTER ISN’T GONNA KILL HERSELF, SHE’S JUST A WHINY, SPOILED BRAT WITH SHITTY PARENTS.
VANE$$A (WHO IS A GOOD WRITER LIKE TAY ZONDAY IS A GREAT PIANIST), IS A FUCKING DUDE. AND A CLOSET CASE. I GUARANTEE BOTH OF THESE THINGS. NO ACTUAL GIRL SAYS STUPID SHIT LIKE “I’M GOING TO START MY JAW STRETCHING EXERCISES.” UNLESS SHE’S SOME 500 LBS LAND WHALE WITH NO SOCIAL SKILLS (THE ONLY OTHER POSSIBILITY, BUT 99.999% CHANCE VANE$$A IS A CLOSET CASE DUDE WHO CAN’T BRING HIMSELF TO ACTUALLY GO TO A GAY BAR AND GET HIMSELF SOME COCK.)
LAY OFF THE FUCKING CHEESY SENTIMENTALITY AND PHONEY-ASS DRAMA WHORING, LOSERS.
Chronic stress = chronic depression.
Stress comes from everywhere and its overwhelming. I’ve tried and no drug helps. Its just balance, however you find it, that ultimately fixes shit. Creating balance reqires you not to panic and some thought, a plan and balls to make it stick. I wouldnt go back to my teens for all the fucking tea in china and any amout of good head. It sucked. Its just getting good now. I had to wait till over 30. Before that i had very little idea what the fuck I was doing. I’m feeling that kids shit. It just sucks but if you live through it you might end up becoming a cheesy cliche but you’ll be stronger.
gold. again.
with “the meaning of life” stuff being about having kids, i can relate and agree, but theres an exception / addition to that rule, and that is:
ART.
be it writing, painting, music, whatever it is, there are some people whose purpose it is, in the same way yours is to reproduce, theirs is to make art. not just any art, but GREAT art. as in, you sacrifice your reproductive life for the possibillity to create something that lasts forever, and is not your genetic code in human flesh form.
not saying thats me or whatever, but for some people, thats all theyve got, and its as ‘makes sense’ as the making babies thing.
as for Vane$$a being a ‘great writer’ sheeeeeeiiiit, coming from BN thats saying something. but i’ve yet to see the evidence.
i’ll race you to the finish line vane$$a. one day all this internet commenting will no longer be anonymous and your kids will be able to google every stupid thing you ever said on the net, so there will be no running and hiding, we’ll all have to answer for all the shit we talked.
but fuck it, its fun.
to TT: stick around kid, we’ve got your back.
ps
shitcock is an absolutely brilliant screen name but I know you’re hurtin lil guy. Its ok to have feeling for ol Vane$$a.
Malcom Jamal Hitler has a bad screen name and really just needs to get laid. Anything Cosby isnt remotely funny or clever unless you’re dropping the cosby kis off at the pool.
BYE!
You’re just jealous, and trying to turn me into Andrea Dworkin is your way of dealing with it. Back the fuck off of me today. It’s not the time.
But thanks for comparing me to Tay. We share a birthday.
that was punk f’kn rock dude!
Hi BJ. I’ve often considered that possibility myself, but am comforted by the very strong likelihood that when “they” start unmasking “us,” it will be shortly before “they” line “us” up against a wall. The end result will be more like a favor than a punishment. So fuck off. I gypsy curse you.
I’M NOT TRYING TO TURN YOU INTO JACK SHIT, I’M JUST POINTING OUT THE OBVIOUS TRUTH.
The obvious truth that’s been pointed out over and over again for 3 FUCKING years. Moron.
no christine chubbuck? bud is kind of cliche with today’s jaded, media-savvy suicide case.
The horror. Blognigger just complemented Vene$$a, who is actually a man who lives in Youngstown, Ohio and the most annoying comment writer around (just look at his comment above). You’re just playing with us, right, BN? Please say yes.
yes
3 FUCKING YEARS AND YET YOU CONTINUE TO PRETEND YOU’RE A GIRL EVEN THOUGH EVERYONE KNOWS YOU’RE A CLOSET CASE WITH BAD ACNE.
WHY DON’T YOU HURRY UP AND PULL A BUD DWYER ALREADY, MANGINA?
Love it. Gimme more you evil little fucker. Or is that all you got?
I THINK LYING IS PROBABLY MORE EVIL THAN ABUSING CAPS LOCK.
REGARDLESS, YOU BORE ME.
This was a great post blognigger, and I will truly miss you. I shot you an email a week or so ago, so hopefully that goes on some sort of email list that lets us all know what you’re up to and if you have anything (like the book or movie) coming out. I also agree with you on the children thing. So many people see it as some sort of hindrance, and the end of your life. Life may change, but for the better. Seriously, when you come home from a long day of work at night, thinking about how badly you want to throw a fresh pot of coffee into the face of your boss and carve his face with the shattered glass remnants, what in the world is going to make you any happier than your kids running around the corner, nearly pissing their pants with excitement just knowing you’re home?
Live each day like it’s your last until you turn thirty, then grow up and experience the other side of life. thats what im gonna do anyways.
good stuff, bn. i think a lot of people hit a rough patch in their lives around late teens/early 20s where life seems to lack any sort of stability or clear path and this lack of control is scary, especially if it’s coupled with an emotionally rough childhood. but you have to realize that there are so many awesome things in life: learning to play a weird instrument, getting wasted and making stupid youtube videos, playing a rec-league sport or joining a dance troupe or community theater, laughing at cartoons with your best friend when you’re baked, going camping or some shit, the list goes on and on. you’re only limited by your imagination; the problem is that when you’re super depressed, your imagination is pretty limited. voila: antidepressants and/or therapy. we live in quite an interesting modern age where depression can often be effectively controlled.
my only problem is that vane$$a has been publicly complimented on her writing ability which a. elicits jealousy (i have to be honest) and b. is almost definitely going to make her comments exponentially more obnoxious by stroking her ego.
p.s. andrea dworkin? that was the best analogy that came to you? 90% of people born after 1980 have no idea who andrea dworkin is (except perhaps women’s studies majors).
“p.s. andrea dworkin? that was the best analogy that came to you? 90% of people born after 1980 have no idea who andrea dworkin is (except perhaps women’s studies majors).”
which is probably true and I did totally agree. but being a dumbass i din’t notice until later that she had linked us to a picture of Dworkin in her name. and if you don’t know who someone is finding out is a mere google away. i like it when someone treats me like i actually know shit and i did in fact learn about dworkin in college this century. does anyone know who jim goad is who was born after 1980? probably not but that doesn’t stop him from getting his ass kissed around here now does it. is it better when someone coddles our lazy ignorance? seems to me like vanessas having a laugh. good for her. i bet most of you are just racist, pissed and threatened because shes a white woman flirting with a black man. you’re probably also pissed because she offered props to vanessa instead of you. and you know what they say in the art world. hatred from the masses is the highest form of flattery. i guess that means that blogN kinda sucks. which he does. check out the link in her name on that post. you know how to left click don’t you? go vanessa.
maybe tt should leave oklahoma. go to a place thats more interesting for an 18 year old. but something tells me that all the goodness blathered about on here won’t count for shit when she shows up at the door of your nightmare gentrification pad.
I didn’t ever really read the blognigger posts (they were long) but hey man take what you’ve got and do what you can. Me, opiates.
Beneath this snowy mantle cold and clean
The unborn grass lies waiting for its coat to turn to green
The snowbird sings the song he always sings
And speaks to me of flowers that will bloom again in spring
When I was young my heart was young then, too
Anything that it would tell me, that’s the thing that I would do
But now I feel such emptiness within
For the thing that I want most in life’s the thing that I can’t win
CHORUS
Spread your tiny wings and fly away
And take the snow back with you
Where it came from on that day
The one I love forever is untrue
And if I could you know that I would
Fly away with you
The breeze along the river seems to say
That he’ll only break my heart again should I decide to stay
So, little snowbird, take me with you when you go
To that land of gentle breezes where the peaceful waters flow
kickback!
Attention! All hands on deck. It’s an oldie but a goodie, and the acorn doesn’t fall far from the tree. Blognigger, absence makes the heart grow fonder and frankly, actions speak louder than words. It’s true that all work and no play, makes Jack a dull boy. Since all’s fair in love and war and all’s well that ends well, I wish you luck. But I warn you they’ve already got one paw on the chicken coop.
kurt cobain was sort of cunty about it. Now Ian Curtis, half a bottle of whiskey, Iggy playing in the background, hanging urself from teh ceiling – that’s what’s up.
the 9/11 hijackers were fucking punk rock – you know this man.
BN: when you sell your first screenplay drop a line mang – ur too talented to have a day job.
i fuckin weep for the future when i see people look at a block of text and say shit like, “thats way too much to read, can i get a summary.”
a) its really not that much to begin with. like 7 or 8 short paragraphs maybe
b) the whole point of reading something like that is to get in there inside the words and be moved by them, or ridicule them for being sentimental and gay or whatever. a summary defeats the whole purpose, nobody is gonna quiz you afterwards. read it or dont.
the internet-tech wave has made people too fucking impatient and dumb to read books anymore, and now they wont even read less than a page of words on the fuckin internet. i see this all the time for even less text than what mr nigger wrote.
and yes i recognize the irony, the people who most need to hear this wont because ive gone on too long at this point. fuck it. dear diary.
@ cnc: don’t weep for the future. the more uneducated impatient dolts there are are the more $$ and opportunity for us. the only catch is for every real world road rules challenge watching mouth breather there are 14 chinese and indian people studying discrete math or applied physics. oh well.
^ hey mother fuckers i DID go back and read the entire thing. and i stand by my abridged anthology request because a synopsis would have spared me from the misspelled, syntax defying gore of suicidey’s letter. if u weep for the future weep because the youth is fond of emailing anonymous strangers named after racial slurs for advice on wether or not they should kill themselves.
Turdly face overhead is seriously ruining this site with her pro-anal school-marm’s crush on writing perfect grammar all over duh intra-webs foh-rums. Get a dildo, hoser.
bacteria can have kids.
Again, in addition / exception to the “having kids gives your life meaning” – – -
“you can find reason in your life through art. its not for everyone, but its true”
be van gogh and cut your ear off.
be hemmingway and blow your brains out.
the rule is: just dont check out until you’ve done something worthwhile.
(otherwise u fucking suck)
but you knew that already.
that means: at least 5 novels / 3 albums / 70 paintings etc… and they have to be AWESOME. not just churning them out. so before your five novels you’ve probably written three that sucked already. with 150-odd short stories (which they can later comprise into books posthumously) if its music you need to have done @ least 3 albums, so thats about 50, 60, 70 songs you’d written already that didnt make it onto the albums… basically it means a LOT of work.
you have to EARN that one-way ticket outta here. and dont leave any kids behind.
also: as much as Mr Goads bickering is annoying, seizures and car accidents are not the way to go, probably going to tell me to fuck off but i wish you all the best and a speedy recovery.
I’ve been walkin’ these streets so long
Singin’ the same old song
I know every crack in these dirty sidewalks of Broadway
Where hustle’s the name of the game
And nice guys get washed away like the snow and the rain
There’s been a load of compromisin’
On the road to my horizon
But I’m gonna be where the lights are shinin’ on me
Like a rhinestone cowboy
Riding out on a horse in a star-spangled rodeo
Like a rhinestone cowboy
Getting cards and letters from people I don’t even know
And offers comin’ over the phone
Well, I really don’t mind the rain
And a smile can hide all the pain
But you’re down when you’re ridin’ the train that’s takin’ the long way
And I dream of the things I’ll do
With a subway token and a dollar tucked inside my shoe
There’ll be a load of compromisin’
On the road to my horizon
But I’m gonna be where the lights are shinin’ on me
Like a rhinestone cowboy
Riding out on a horse in a star-spangled rodeo
Rhinestone cowboy
Gettin’ cards and letters from people I don’t even know
And offers comin’ over the phone
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=30egIKHT-pM
BRING ON THE ASK GOAD ACTION GAVSTER!!!
that encyclopedia dramatica is some murky shit.
This was great! BN I’m sad to see you go. Don’t leave us for too long…I mean, just remember what stupid crap you’re leaving us with! Will I have to start reading HRO now? God, I hope not.
Fucking fantastic. I wish I had a BN when I was 16.
Also, only old people would still refer to Alicia Silverstone as the pinnacle of hot, you goddamn grampa.
That reply is exactly what I needed to hear at exactly the right time.
Thank you.