WHY I'LL NEVER BE PUBLISHED
an observation by N.
Since i'm not an AIDS infected homeless transgender bisexual heroin addicted pill popping off-white lesbo-fag child-rape victim living in a bombed out slum or a third world shithole that liberal intellectuals pretend to care about, i'll never be able to get anything i write published. no matter how obsessively i pour over every single sentence, ripping the feelings out of me as if they were squid-tumors and throwing them against the paper walls, smearing them into something that if i'm lucky will articulate a quarter of an inch of my views, it just won't ever fucking happen. I'm just a straight white boy from the suburbs. not sexy enough. not interesting enough. they got sell the author's backstory, not his writing ability. no one will ever see it, because i'm enough of an asshole to ignore, but not big enough of an asshole to deny.
My hands are rattled with shocked nerves after pounding on the corners of the table and the sides of my skull for most of the afternoon. I've listened to "Life Fades Away" more times than i care to count... imagining myself in the passenger seat of a slow-to-the-point-of-idling convertible, my heart quietly exploding, my lifeless body slumping to the driver's side, causing the driver to lose control of the car and go off a cliff into a flaming garbage island.
wrote a song all day today. it's called "NIGHTMARE LOGIC THROAT FUCKING". it's about how i wanna kill myself. everybody needs one song like that. we have several.
i'm also taking a break from message boards, cause lately they've been bringing out the worst in me.
2:20 am on 4/19/09. Another day and it will be ten years since Columbine. I remember that fondly. People thought i was going to pull something similar. Even my "friends" pontificated on my potential lapse of empathy that may lead to a blood soaked massacre. i remember 4/30/99, ten days later, there were record absences in my school after a rumor got out that something was going to go down at an assembly being held that day. Even my teacher gave me a hard time... saying "Nick knows what's going down". "The lights will go dark and SLAYER will play over the PA". very astute and witty observations i know.
Truthfully, their barage of accusations, while obviously baseless, were also so completly bereft of any real imagination that i found it hard to take offense. really, I didn't care enough about any of these boring assholes to put a bullet through their heads. I couldn't even muster up enough disdain to tell them that i hope they all die in an acid mine and leave their inheritance to each other so i could pick up the difference. Really.. i just didn't want to be bothered. A simple concept that was still too much for these fucking clownshoes.
Just needed to share.
4/20 EDIT: here's something for the day;
WHAT YOU’LL FIND ON MY BODY IN APRIL: Twenty nine crickets referred to as a carbine. Bandoleer of mock napalm. Crow bombs wrapped up in duct tape. Ammo pouch loaded with chicken bones. Harnessed webs belittling gravity, knowing you’ll be dead in little more than two weeks. Echo and Delta. We got lasers and propane today, but we need dry weather for the fires. I’ll leave you the fly compact in the black treasure chest since you considered them rubber and plastic. 50 foot cannon fuse. Gun powder coffee cans. Ten more crickets circle the mortar eggs. Hell dogs carved up inside the door. Doom drawing life’s work is the best excuse.
EXPLANATION: cut up words and phrases from transcripts from Jefferson County Sherif’s Office of the basement tapes of Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold. Title is a direct quote from Harris.