Where I at?

A sign of the utter depths of my hubris, I apparently somehow believe that there are people out there in the cybervoid who might notice or care that I haven’t posted here for a long time, and thus I feel I ought to provide some explanation. Ha. Just writing it down makes me want to laugh. As if anyone would ever pay attention to this crap.

Well, as that last post may have tipped you off, my family pet had to be put down a while back. He was quite old. Aaaaaaand, I can’t look at the front page of this blog without choking up seeing his little puppy face, and I’m kind of tempted to delete that post entirely, particularly as I’m trying to put some distance between my real-life self and the Nútsjesmoar persona. This thought occurs to me. I’ve wasted almost a year of my life building up some online identity that:

A. no one really notices or cares about,

B. does little good for me or anyone else other than allow me a way to vent my secretive opinions and anxieties,

C. doesn’t really have much to do with who I am in real life, other than in terms of my private thoughts/feelings

D. has eaten up massive amounts of time I should have been working or doing real things with real people in the real world rather than sitting by myself in front of a screen feeling disconnected with reality,

E. has seriously screwed up my job, finances, relationships with family and friends, and my personal life in general

F. has emotionally and spiritually numbed me (perhaps on some level I desired this, especially during times of grief and personal challenge)

G. probably isn’t as funny as I think it is most of the time

 

Letter “F” particularly sticks out at me now. Last year and the year before that on September 8th, I went to my cousin’s grave on the anniversary of his birthday. This year I didn’t even go. It stuck in the back of my mind all day, but in my numbness I sought escape in other electronic diversions until the day was completely past, and it was too late and dark out to go to the graveyard. Over the past year or so, I’ve been increasingly vexed by strange and indescribable dreams of Lovecraftian abstractness, strange forms and formulas and realms of impossible geometry and freefalling motion juxtaposed with illogical dialogue and unfamiliar-yet-familiar characters, all adding up to a cacophonous paranoia-inducing milieu of freakitude. Upon waking from one of these dreams, I often feel, or am struck by the awful and overwhelming feeling that over the past 2 years or so I have become, less human. Something in me no longer wants to be human. Is this so? Did this come about in reaction to something, or was it always there hiding beneath the surface? Has this been the underlying theme of all my dreams, all the way back to childhood, and only recently I am coming to realize it? Am I mad? Am I losing all sanity? Will I ever be happy again? Is there any way to stop myself from going down this self destructive path? It fills me with dread.

Last night I dreamed about Mickey. For some reason he was alive again, but he could only stay around for a day. He was still old and miserable, and he wasn’t much fun. But God I loved having that dog around again for a few fleeting unreal moments. I fucking hate these kinds of dreams. I haven’t had a dream with William in it for a long time now. I wonder if that’s of my own doing? Have I really sublimated all my memories of him so completely? Is there any sense in which someone who tries so hard to forget or not think about someone they’ve lost can still be considered human? Is there any chance for redemption for such a monster?

 

So that, in a nutshell, is where I’m at right now.

Good on ya.

Mickey

 

Oh, what a puppy. *weeps*

 

 

Livin’ in The Land of the… well, I’m lost.

Land O' Tha Lost

Today on my TV picture-box machine, I saw something that shocked and confused my tiny primitive ape-like mind. Apparently, Will Ferrell is making a movie called ‘Land of the Lost.’ One assumes then, that this is a comedy film? *Insert confused grunting noise here.* The confusion only deepened upon further research. My memory of the Land of the Lost franchise is as follows: I remember the series from the early 90′s when I was a kid, they played it on weekends on Nickelodeon, and it was much less of a Will Ferrell-style comedy as much as a campy, slightly scary show involving a cheesy animated T-Rex with an eye condition who was constantly trying to kill everyone, with maybe occasional lighthearted or humorous moments. Mostly though I remember the show as being a cross between dark and goofy, with enough corny green-screen effects to please any Saturday morning sci-fi fan, and a bikini-clad, stone-cold, stone-age, not-technically-an-actual-cavegirl to put Doctor Who’s Leela to shame.

The Dumbsaint Chronicles: Records of a rambling mind

In which I ramble about whatever’s going through my A.D.D. head at the moment, for your groovy beatnik enjoyment. Tré Coolsville, Daddy-O…

Urgh! Society is too uptight. I’m so sick of living among this species. I’m telling you, animals have it made. It’s so unbearable with this recent heatwave to wear restrictive clothing. Sometimes you just want to scratch yourself in various places on your torso. If you’re an animal, it’s totally cool. You think squirrels get offended when they see another squirrel scratching its crotch? Only if that squirrel is doing it in their tree maybe, but that’s a matter of turf. Squirrels are crazy about their turf, man. Ow, my neck hurts. A lot. Jeez. Just once I’d like to meet some people who weren’t completely uptight and insecure about their bodies and being living beings. I don’t know how much longer I can deal with society before I just go completely bananas and have to go run off and live in the woods like a monkey. On a questionably related subject, I’m so farkin’ sick of being a virgin. To make up for these years and years of celibacy, I feel I’ve worked up a sex-debt. I’ll need to have sex round the clock with dozens of random strangers to make up for it. Yes. This is a good idea.

On that clearly mature and logical note, I fear I must retire for the evening, gentle reader. My brain is too tired to continue with the random stupid thought-makings.

- Nutsjesmoar, out.

Go ahead and jam, dudes!

“I yous tu deek I wasso smaht

I coo-duh hyyyyyda horin my haht”

- from “All that I needed was you”, Mother/Earthbound Zero

 

Yes, it’s about time for some more Earthbound/Mother series content for your “enjoyment.” If it’s true that the Mother series is, conceptually speaking, a lighthearted take on a Japanese person’s concepts and stereotypes of American culture, then apparently the average concept of Americans is that we like to jam out in front of strangers with up-tempo singing and dancing to slightly cheesy, bluesy cowboy rock with ridiculously chauvinistic lyrics. Of course, you might be less likely to notice how corny and pig-headed the words are – if the singer didn’t sound like a castrated choirboy with a thick Japanese accent and mouth full of cotton-balls:

 

“Half of a man” indeed. Seriously, though, that voice may be obnoxious and the lyrics unbearably vapid, but just try listening to that tune and not tap your toes. God, why do I love this song so hard? It makes no sense.