Kurrs' Digital Tapestry of Words

Time passes so slowly, a slithering winding path, a serpent of myth coiled around, over, under, and into itself. Ages have passed in days. I hardly even remember the beginning of the week, it feels like a time long since past. Strange visions and apparitions from my past mixed with the intensity and overwhelming and immenent NOW. Too much, this world is sometimes too much. Love, love, love, love. The only thing that has truly gripped me, that pulls me down and up further than any other thing. It strips me bare and leaves me raw, for good and ill. How many tears have I shed this week? More than the last month, the last year? Everything feels so far away.

Posted by Kurrs at 10:33 PM | Permalink

Once upon a time, in the dark of the past, there was someone, someone who would be forever. Someone to prove wrong my angelism, to show me that sharp points deserve comfort as much as soft. "Don't pick me up if you can't," came the warning, "Stronger than you have failed". But I didn't listen, I didn't understand, I didn't want to. I lifted, and for a time, our love was like a disc-grinder upon steel struts, all work and fire and beauty. My eyes watered under the strain, but still I endured. I loved so much I wouldn't let go, until my tendons strained, and my muscles ached, and my internal organs would burst. But still I held on, digging my fingers in deeper to keep hold. It hurts, but there was no other way. And then I just... let go. Couldn't say why, couldn't see or think straight. The removal of the weight was so that I almost collapsed under the surprise, I don't even know if you hurt yourself on the way back to the ground. Regret nagged, but it was for the best, I loved too fiercely, cared too much, hurt me and you in the name of us. Some parts of this story just repeat and repeat, before and after. I hope some of them I don't.

Posted by Kurrs at 8:50 AM | Permalink

So me and Meg are coming back from the north shore from her dad's place to pick up this werewolf prop we needed to grab. There's this weird guy, kinda grungy dressed and definately weird and unsafe looking, asking me if I've considered suicide, and whether I pray before bed (because I might not wake up if I don't!). I brush him off and he wanders off and I don't think anything of him again. So, just as we're about to leave the seabus on the Vancouver side, we see him sitting there, and he asks:

"Are you laughing at me fuckhead?"

And I laugh, in his face, then calmly reply "No, not at all" and then get ready to beat the shit out of him. Thankfully, he doesn't make eye contact again, and we part ways safely.

Now, in the moment, these decisions made perfect sense. However, in retrospect they are both hysterical and flagrantly insane. The reason for me laughing wasn't meant to be insulting, his question was honestly hysterical to me, the irony of it all didn't hit me until later. Then my answer that I wasn't was truthful, because I hadn't been before he asked, but the answer should seem no more sane in that context to someone not in my head. Tack on the fact that I was gearing up for a fight that I saw coming (he was crazy, there was no cause for his outburst, I was expecting him to start something) and we have pure, psychotic, Christopher.

Brilliance.

Posted by Kurrs at 12:33 AM | Permalink

I see you together. Suddenly, the desire strikes me to imbed the sharp edges of my hands into my chest, sliding them deep between my ribs and leaving them there. With feathered fingers now I would push the two of you together, smile through the tears upon my face, and wish you the best. Such beautiful, wonderful people. My chest, thin and ragged, would cry along with my eyes, liquid pouring down and sideways from the wounds, forming a weeping red spiderweb upon my body.

A dream. Nothing more.

Even I am not so arrogant as to claim to understand the totality of this situation. With beauty comes complexity, and every angle I approach it from shows me more. Too big, like it wouldn't fit inside my heart, my head, my body. A situation too complex for me to have any idea what is - or more importantly should be - going on. So I ride along, another passenger attempting to make decisions but being caught in these silk scarves binding us together. Even though we know they are there, we add more, tightening the knot.

Maybe we're all hoping they will break.

Posted by Kurrs at 10:59 AM | Permalink

It gripped me, all of a sudden, in the middle of a familiar and simple task. A deep and abiding desire to be alone. So, bleary eyed I wandered the sunwashed streets and ended up on a grassy knoll, staring at a indent of rock and metal. My features extended into points, sharp crisp and pure in spite of the yellow light of the daystar. Cold, hard, brittle, limbs of alabaster framed upon a canvas of black feathers. I am the thing from which poetry is written, the mythic body ideal presented in magazines of long limbs and prominent features. But no comfortable words are written about me. An obsession, some momentary joy, no one writes about the boy with the sharp features in the context of longevity, marriage, trust. Discarded as an unattainable and unhealthy ideal, I live in this body every day and do nothing to keep it that way. My bones will always brush sharply upon my clothes, I need no eating disorder to keep this form. Poetry of love, longer love, love that you will stay with, love that endures, always entails soft edges and comfortable padding. I have none of these, am I denied anything but a moment's glory? Will I always be the other?

Posted by Kurrs at 9:10 AM | Permalink

Wire coiled about me, rusted pricks of metal ripping and tearing as I move, my sharp digits reach towards you and slice. Each of your fingers I cut off, one by one, and grind their bones into powder. I lace my tea with the white dust, and intoxicate myself at your expense, and still you look at me with those eyes. My tongue and mind lash out, between the lines I ask "Why don't you hate me?" and still you look at me with those eyes. My fingers pry and tear their way into you, and I cannot tell the crimson from the salt, and still the question hovers unaswered. I tie you up in silk scarves of complication and blindfold you, my fingers still deep underneath your ribs, my eyes burning with fire, but still the question goes unanswered. Powerless before those eyes, I turn and begin to sob, and the sea turns red.

Posted by Kurrs at 3:40 PM | Permalink

I slept well, even though it wasn't for long.

Late-night wanderings in the dark when no one else is about. When the lights look like icicles, sharp upon the cool air. Finally, after so long, even at this late hour, I felt relaxed. A haze, a light feeling of being out of myself, losing touch with the inside and only perceiving the warm static about one's body.

In your arms, finally, I found sleep.

Posted by Kurrs at 10:50 AM | Permalink

The desire to wrap myself in wire is there, like a pulling animal upon a leash. Grasping firmly the end of a spool of barb, their little ancient pricks sliding into my flesh like the soldiers with tin hats entangled by them long ago. Wrapping, with each pass a point out for every point inwards. A grimace, "I'm fine" when it is all done, lips pulled back to make my face the likeness of a skull.

Recently was the first time anyone worried about me enough to come visit when I hadn't asked them to. A silly thing, really, as I was fine, but endearing nonetheless. I feel the clammy sick feeling of being poisoned again, and wonder why I do it.

I phoned just to hear a voice, but got none. Perhaps then to rest for now; a nap may be in order.

Posted by Kurrs at 4:53 PM | Permalink

Dried rivers of salt are etched upon my face while a weasel looks at me peculiarly. You lie there, asleep, cold shivers crawl their way down my back. Does anyone else understand the words that slip past the gates of my lips? Sometimes I can't help but wonder that even I, their meticulous author, understand the full meaning of them.

So bright, like a candle up close so that you can feel the heat of it singe your eyelashes, like a star in the midnight sky far from the polluting rays of street cars and lamp-posts, like the sun upon a desert's back. And yet... You still don't burn. Whereas the burning daystar's slightest touch singes your skin, my intensity leaves you unscathed.

And still, I perceive in you a cold fire so hot that it deceives the senses. Deceptively, it is blue, able to cut through metal, sometimes convincing others "I am no flame, fire is not the colour of my eyes, but red. You must be mistaken."

In a mirror, a clenched fist, and I realise, suddenly, that it is my own.

Posted by Kurrs at 9:03 AM | Permalink

By gods, is it done. Macro, Micro, Gov Reg. All finished.

Mayhaps now, I might to sleep, perchance to dream.

Posted by Kurrs at 10:18 PM | Permalink

There it goes, the sun, casting her rays upon the buildings across from mine. I really miss sleep now, or at least sleep that is restful. I don't think I'm getting that much REM: when I'm really tired and I close my eyes I start to dream, like right away. It's very strange because I'm still awake, and fully aware that I'm awake, but I'm also dreaming, like an imagination that is more intense and fills your conscious thoughts. You still know its not real, but someone walks in the room in your minds eye and then you talk and then you leave, and then some little goblin comes up, and then you see a cat. But your eyes are closed, and you're still just sitting there. Sometimes it feels really confusing.

I start dreaming well before I sleep, moments playing themselves out on the insides of my eyelids, and sometimes I jerk myself... to being more awake (eyes open, sitting up, looking around) to remind myself that I am actually alone in the room. Then I fall into unconciousness, out of exhaustion, because I've been getting like no sleep recently and probably less REM. Stress is bad.

I think I got 8 hours of sleep last night. But it feels more like a coma. I'm still exhausted, I woke up at 5 or 6 or something studid again, and I really don't feel rested. In fact, I feel terrible.

Ah well, by 4pm I will have finished this ruddy crap and handed in my Macroeconomics take-home and that will be that for this semester. The Garou party on Saturday will be really nice, as I've been feeling really disconnected from people. Not enough Meg, Jhayne, and Tyler to make up for the intense feeling of disassociation that has come with a really wacky sleeping (or lack thereof) schedule.

Posted by Kurrs at 6:51 AM | Permalink

All I want is a 68% for a final grade in micro. I really hope I get it. That would make me happy.

Now all that remains is the macro takehome. Time to write and sound smarty, but perhaps some food first?

"I just made you up to hurt myself."
- "Only," Nine Inch Nails

Posted by Kurrs at 6:37 PM | Permalink

So, I woke up at 5am today. Sometimes I wonder if I'm losing the ability to sleep, because I didn't wake up because of the light. I was awake before sunrise. I headed to my parents' for a change of scenery, to help the studying. My body is cold, I'm sneezing, and I'm getting nosebleeds. Strangely though, I feel calm (despite the pacing) and can't help but look forward to five o'clock tonight when this Micro final is finally out of the way. After that, finish writing my Macro takehome and then I'm done. And really, how hard can finishing the takehome be? There's none of this "What if I forget to study something?" crap. Just write it up, be as nit-picky and finnicky as possible, and then hand the sucker in. Friday will be so wonderful, I might just sleep.

Posted by Kurrs at 9:18 AM | Permalink

Shattered glass, I often referred to myself as. The problem being what to do with the bladed broken pieces. Sharp, like my features and words, that will cut you if you aren't careful. The question always was: Am I capable of being stained glass, the light forming art from my destruction? But more recently someone referred to me as a crystal, and that might perhaps better capture the paradox of my simplicity and complexity. Careful. Either way, it's still sharp, but the light still produces beauty.

Posted by Kurrs at 8:51 PM | Permalink

Aren't I allowed any more? Like clockwork, again, up after six hours of sleep. Grr, stupid anxiety. Stupid finals.

So I went to the Modified Fusion fashion show at Lick yesterday. It was, to a certain extent, a complete gong show. But I really enjoyed myself. Wasn't the same skank crowd, or sin crowd, but... a third crowd. Sure, there's overlap, but the difference was cool. Also, saw lots of cool people, including:

Saw Patti. Wow, small boobies, so weird. Can't really say anything else than that but comment on the fact that she has so much better posture than before. She stands straight and tall (well, tall-er, it is Patti) and I think it was for the best.

Saw Angus. That made me strangely deleriously happy. I don't know why, but seeing my surrogate younger brother totally hit the spot. I hope he's feeling better.

Hung out with Meg alot yesterday. Took some photos and generally had some good downtime with surrogate sis. Got to see surrogate mum (Jill) as well, and eat crepes. Yum.

Been spending alot of time with the ever wonderful Tyler. Hacky sack, back rubs, moments of silence and listening, gods, he even did some of my dishes. Ty si teh awesome.

Tristan was at the fashion show. He's so pretty, he makes me swoon. It was nice seeing him, he even offered me a ride home (although I ended up SkyTraining it, so convinient) which was extra sweet. So was his girlfiend (?) Karen, who I've met many times yet to always forget her name. She is nice. I think she's moving in with Ty or something.

Simon was too. He's crabby because no one will hike with him, I think he wants the muscles and the outdoors. I will probably take him up on the offer once I'm free.

Last but not least, Jhayne. She needs a new hat.

Wow, I just saw alot of people over a short time.

Well, micro final tomorrow. Take home macro final still ongoing. That's the update.

Posted by Kurrs at 8:17 AM | Permalink

I totally ninja-ed that test. Fuck yeah, I love Neary tests. So grueling, my hand fucking kills. But I'm full of intensity and accomplishment. See that gleam? That's accomplishment.

I'm going to the Fusion Fashion show tonight at Lick. Should be good, will be nice to get out.

http://www.livejournal.com/users/casperella/

Only Macro and Micro remain, only Micro is scary, must learn good. Must defeat, deeeefeat.

Warning: Chris = Madness!

Posted by Kurrs at 2:07 PM | Permalink

Yay! Apparently I don't need a T4, because casual labour you just declare as "misc income," w00t!

Got a final at Noon. I hope I'm ready, I'm going over some of the MGM vs. Grokster files right now, just to get my brain extra-full. I feel pretty confident. I really hope I don't get screwed by random chance, that's always the fear with a choice test. Although Neary likes it when you specialise, so I doubt I'll be stuck.

And now, poetry! I don't care if you don't like it, naaaaa :P

What if I told you
That I see it in your eyes
A jagged edge
Ripping raw and bloody
Innocence cut short
Not raw but slit
Sharp cold and true

Posted by Kurrs at 9:04 AM | Permalink

My brother loves "High Fidelity" starring John Cusack, it's one of his favourite romantic films.

I love "Grosse Pointe Blank" starring John Cusack, it's one of my favourite romantic films.

Hahahaha, can you tell how we're similar/different?

Posted by Kurrs at 4:34 PM | Permalink

I rest, watch, question, and comment from my perch, up in the trees. Trees grow sparsely, here and there, amid a field of knee-high flowers. White flowers, upon long stems, rising up to one's knees. A pan-pipe plays idly in my hands, inspired to produce music by the breath of my lungs. Below me, a man, in baggy green pants, dances. A small blue orb dances about him, rising, falling, and rising again, dancing to the same rhythm as he. But it is not the dance or the music that captivates his attention. Upon the sky above, white clouds upon a daylit sky surround the scene, like a giant mural slowly turning about the field. Finally, he says something, and the note on my pipe goes awry, and the flowers whilt from white to black, bending their backs so that they lie flat upon the ground. And the blue orb lands.

Posted by Kurrs at 1:48 PM | Permalink

Jeez, I hope I'm not always like this. I mean, I'm normally so level-headed, right? I've never half-assed anything though, so I suppose this shouldn't be surprising.

I'm swimming about, stressed about the present, the future, the past. I can hardly think straight. Little things set me off.

My brother watching Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind in the other room. I love that movie, but I think I'd just start sobbing if I watched any significant amount of it. So much truth, so much of my love life in that that it prods the sore parts of my heart. Erin once said "This movie should be required watching for everyone I date," and I tend to agree. Past, present, future, there is truth in that film.

Can't seem to learn my econ stuff well enough. It's so hard, I'm really freaked out. Still haven't managed to get through all the gov reg readings, some of those are so hard I barely follow the train of thought. Very discouraging. Sometimes I feel like I've squandered my education recently. Trying so hard to finish something that means so much to me, but I'm not motivated.

It sounds sappy, but love is what actually gets me up in the morning. And I don't feel a dearth of it, but I always want more. Maybe that's why Citizen Kane hit me so hard. "You're trying so hard to make the world love you," Urg, that resonates.

My defences are so low, and so much is up in the air. I could just break down. I cling to those stable things in my life, as I mentioned before, but I did not name them. My ethics, my friends, my family.

Gods I'll be glad when finals are over. Emotional damage control is what's going on now. Don't do anything stupid, study hard, get good grades. Focus focus focus.

More and more, this journal becomes more for me, and less for the readers. I wonder why...

Posted by Kurrs at 8:33 PM | Permalink

Don't think I'm going to make it out to Dark Rave tonight. Too much still to learn. I might be leaving my house soon, to get some fresh air and maybe some human contact. But dancing/late-night stuff may not be the best idea. My finals are kinda freaking me out, so I'm just plodding along with this here studying.

Posted by Kurrs at 10:42 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

For the desire to take pix. Go look.

http://www.livejournal.com/users/kurrs/2657.html#cutid1

Posted by Kurrs at 4:33 PM | Permalink

I'm currently listening to the new NIN album, [WITH_TEETH] and it's pretty cool. Trent would totally kick my ass because its a "stolen" copy, but if I ever meet him I'll take him out for dinner or do something equally nice. I won't support his label though. Anyways, its not like its illegal in Canada anyways. O Canada, I stand on guard for theee...

I seem to be cursed to wake up around 6:30am these days. Really pisses me off because I'm also having trouble getting to sleep early. Means my mornings are rather productive though, which is keen.

I'm having some rather significant tax trauma. Not major, but noteworthy. Y'see, I didn't get any T4s from 2003 last year and it totally slipped my mind, so I'm a year behind. This lies, primarily from the fact that I'm pretty sure that I worked for Coastpro that summer. However, I'm not entirely sure I got paid.

Here's the rub: there have been many times in my life in which I had free time, money saved up, but was in a really rough space mentally and emotionally. I'm a workaholic, so what do I do to solve the problem? Find work. Makes me able to forget what's going on, and lets me get satisfaction from good work done, preferrably physical. But the money doesn't matter to me, never has. So, if I don't get paid, I might not noticed unless I actually need the money. Given how good I'm with finances, that's usually not often.

Many people find this really weird, but to me its normal as breathing. Work isn't about money, it's about satisfaction first. I can actually think of a few situations where I may not have been paid for services rendered. I can't be bothered to care, I got what I wanted out of it: a clear head and a sore body.

However, this makes for... interesting tax dillemas. Now, if I am right, the reason Coastpro hasn't sent me a T4 is that they didn't pay me. So, what would they send? But I'm not sure, and if they did pay me, not recording that income would be illegal. Gah. And I can't seem to find a pay stub from them for all of 2004, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. Hurm.

Finals are scaring me a bit. I want to do well, REALLY well. So I'm trying to study as hard as I can, but I'm not sure if I have it in me to do it as well as I want. Heck, I'm here typing, aren't I? I need to develop some sort of "Break, study, break" that allows me to get into the right study/writing groove that makes for wicked grades.

Stay tuned, oh, and check this out, it's the funniest thing I've seen in a long time.

Ghetto Delta, your airline, niggah

Posted by Kurrs at 11:20 AM | Permalink

I was about to log on to bb.occult.ca and I thought "Don't Chris, it's going to be a shit-storm, and you know it." But I didn't listen. Heck, it's still going on.

At least some stuff finally came out in the open. Most notably my estrangement from Paul and Colin. At least now it's public, and everyone is on the same page. It was kinda grueling, and definately ugly, but at least it's done.

Urg, it's been a weird day, all said and done. Goodnight everyone, I hope sleep finds you and wraps you up in its restful arms until morn.

Posted by Kurrs at 11:48 PM | Permalink

Woke up, studied for four hours.

Spent the better part of the day with Jhayne.

Talked with Erin in a civil and friendly manner.

Going to go hack with brother then eat din with family.

This should have been a haiku.

Posted by Kurrs at 5:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Funny quote from my textbook that talks about Arrow's Impossibility Theorem. This particular section is just saying that a social choice rule should be Pareto consistent.

"Pareto consistency is a very mild requirement for a collective choice rule. One would not expect it to hold in societies which are ruled by external forces; in which, for example, everyone prefers lust and gambling, on the one hand, to chastity and frugality on the other; but where, according to a Holy Book, the social state of chastity and frugality is preferable to the social state of lust and gambling. Economists naturally would recommend lust and gambling."

Hihihihihihi. Choice.

Posted by Kurrs at 12:12 PM | Permalink

There's apart of me that wants, nay, needs to know that my ex is in pain after a break-up. That might sound malicious, but I assure you it is not. After every relationship I have ever had, I have gone through gut-wrenching torrents of agony, and to me that's a sign that I miss what I had, that when it was still alive it had meaning.

And yet, I never get that. Every single one I get a sense that they have moved on, that they ... don't care. Or, more importantly, they didn't care as much as I did. No one has ever broken up with me, ever, I have always been the one to cut it, to declare the end. Yet it seems that, despite this fact, I am always the one who suffers more because of it. I cry and sob and hurt myself over it for months, sometimes years.

There is always the problem of perspective. What I see is merely what they present to me. Certainly either I or the break-up itself has caused them pain (sometimes I just wonder if I say that to myself in an attempt to convince myself it's true) so therefore they would close up around me, not allow me to know what's actually going on behind the veils of their eyes.

So I never get the sense of satisfaction. The knowledge of their pain. I know mine, and I guess I just wonder, as I always have, about whether it really was as intense as I always remember them to be. Or was it a dream? A farce? Self-deluded constructions of a glory and magnanimity that was not actually there.

At least I can be alone again. Yes, blessedly alone. Now, to bring myself to study, to bury myself in work. Then, maybe for a time, I might have respite from these listless thoughts, these shadows that plague me.

Posted by Kurrs at 8:21 AM | Permalink

I awoke this morning to a familiar sensation, like an old friend that with who newly found reconciliation has been achieved.

"Hello alone," I said, "I missed you, good thing that phobia guy moved out."

In other news, I'll be posting up my photography on my livejournal account. I'll post there only when I have something to show.

http://www.livejournal.com/users/kurrs/

Posted by Kurrs at 11:32 AM | Permalink

I'm not even sure that's true, but that's what went through my head.

It's so delightfully angsty, though, isn't it? Silly Chris, using turns of phrase like the "chasm of my own depression widen before me and engulf everything". Sometimes, I wonder about him...

I'm lost. I said it to Tyler. This whole situation has managed to completely floor me. What's going on? What am I doing? I feel so helplessly confused. Bouncing from one idea to the next, feeling very much _not_ like myself. What's this? A fear of being alone?

I feel worthless, rejected, and yet surrounded by amazing things. There's alot that's good in my life, and I cling to it, like a man who cannot swim, clinging to a life-saver while he tries to convince himself that the water is not deep enough to drown him. But he's being pulled, perhaps to the shallow bottom of a harmless pool. This one, though, feels too strongly, and might even drown in the shallow waters, through despair and hopelessness. Why stand? Why breathe?

Of course I know why. Because there's always something else, some other thing around the corner. Life surprises you, gives you wonderful gifts. But I want the unattainable. I want the things I cannot have. Because, if I managed to possess them, then I would have value. I would have beat the odds, acheived the impossible. A king of theives.

But that too, is a lie. A powertrip, not real. So I cheat and steal my way into some previously believed impossible situation. How does that mean I'm worthwhile? I lied to get there, so I'm just a fake, an imposter, wretched and worthless, covered in a silver veil to fool onlookers. "Look, it's valuable," says the shopkeep, "Don't mind the smell of rot, it's just your imagination."

Gah, Ty, I blame you. "If we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended," eh Tyler? But more than that, I blame myself. I get myself into these situations because I want to, I want to feel the feverish madness that overcomes me. I want to be driven crazy, to have something strip away the layers of reason I have constructed, to shake me to my core.

Oy, and I have finals to study for, and sleep to get... Good night.

Posted by Kurrs at 11:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I love K-os so much.

And Sarah is more like pale moonlight shining off of frozen crisp snow. Static and beautiful, fragile and sharp. Water is more like... Meggers.

Deep weakness for dreadlocks.

To answer the unspoken query from Niko, I am glad I went. Sin City is funny, because it involves stripping away so many barriers and being around some of the most beautiful people I've ever known, I tend to react. Sometimes I have alot of fun, sometimes I get really emotional and upset. Last night was definately the second for me. There was definately good things, like when Ty and Niko rubbed my back/head. Fuck, that was sex. And there was some other nice stuff, and dancing alot, but I still mostly ran around being upset.

But as I said to Bevan, I don't think pain is bad. It's necessary, good, as apart of human experience as joy. Pain means things have meaning, and I wouldn't do well in a world without it. Hopefully I'm not too much of a emotional burden on everyone while I'm in this down state. It's why I tend to hide from the world when I get really upset: No one should have to deal with this shit.

However, this time it seems to come along with actual loneliness. Fuck, what's up with that? Like, now, I honestly fear being alone sometimes. Urg. I'm still a loner, so these conflicting emotions (want to be alone, scared of being alone) are really annoying. Hopefully this is temporary.

Remember, "This is an emergency..."

*wanders off humming k-os*

Posted by Kurrs at 11:48 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Whoa, it's late. Went to Hamburger Mary's afterwards, my body thanks me for such glorious food.

The night was... Well, I'm glad I went but saying I had "fun" might not be true. I had fun at points, but there was alot of gut-wrenching upset running around inside me. The night was also really surreal, I kept thinking I saw people I knew but just wasn't sure. Emily, Danny, among others. The Danny turned out to be Sarah. Whoa, weird, how'd I mix those two up? She didn't remember me, not suprisingly, we'd only met a few times and I prolly didn't have dreds then. She's as beautiful as ever, breath-taking even. Like cold moonlight reflecting off fresh water ripling from a slight breeze.

Met this mysterious Jhayne that everyone talks about. Or maybe I had met her before, but I do not remember. She, as well, is very pretty, albeit in a very different way. More like... I dunno, early morning and exhaustion steal my words. Soft greys and browns, with curls, like a tree of some sort... like a willow in fall. She definately gets my vote of approval so far, nice and fun to be around.

So much happened, yet it feels so empty. Like it all added up to nothing. Maybe morning will bring clarity.

Goodnight.

Posted by Kurrs at 4:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

So I got drunk beyond all imagining today. I don't think I've been given that much free alcohol from strangers ever before. Made alot of "friends" (read: people who randomly gave me said free booze). Enjoyed myself, but for the life of me I don't think I really noticed any of the music. I went into the pit for all of K-os, but, man, I was drunk, and so was everyone else in the pit. I mean, drunker than me, which was impressive. The pit consisted of people falling over, knocking over other people, and some people getting crushed pretty bad. It was super-funny, just go limp until the person on top of you gets off, you'll be fine. Which I was.

Just watched Robocop, Pat fell asleep on the floor after like, 10min of it. Hehehe. That movie is really brutal, I had forgotten how much. Pure cyberpunky goodness.

Still kinda upset about the narcissim thing. Basically what it boils down to is an invalidation of everything I have pride in: my accomplishments. The difference between narcissim and sanity is merely levels. If I am a narcissit that means that everything I do and bemoan how hard it or talk about how great it is, is a lie. A lie meant to make me appear more righteous/cool/perfect/whatever. That stings, it really does.

Definately still upset about the Erin breakup. It's more permanent now, and it brings tears to my eyes so frequently it's kinda stupid. Managed to tell my brother in person, that's individual number 3. No matter how many people know about it from this source, it's still hard to say....

Hope everyone is doing alright, I feel moderately poisoned. I'll be at Sin City tomorrow, so see you there if you're going.

PS Bro can't go tomorrow, I asked.

Posted by Kurrs at 10:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

So, to allow everyone out there in internetland that has decided to read my blog into my particular fury at the anonymous poster (that's right you gutless sack of shit, you post from the library, hide you fucking pathetic worm, hide).

I have been accused of being a Narsissist. Yes, I'm introspective. Yes, I'm different than most people. Does that mean that someone who is, say, quiet and has a chronic illness is a narcissist? Semms to hold.

Lack of empathy? Maybe for actions, not people. So, to be sane I must empathise with people even when they do ill? I must have empathy for killers and rapists too now? Otherwise, I am surely mad.

"none of my narcissists ever admit to being distressed by their own behavior" HAHAHAHAHAHA. Sure, maybe I'm obsessive: believes that everything is causal and is your own damn fault (that includes me you stupid shit).

"An exaggerated sense of self-importance" So, struggling with self-confidence and especially self-worth all the time is somehow tied to an exaggerated sense of self-importance? In fact, the more I live I want to remove myself from others because it seems that telling people how I feel and actually being honest causes them to lash out and claim I am insane. I don't want your fucking sympathy, I want companionship. I want to know that other people know what's going on in my life and that I'm not alone. You can take your sympathy, if that's what you think this is about, and shove it up your ass.

But overinflated sense of my own self-worth? Has anyone considered that maybe my ethics are a sense of penance? Struggling for my entire life with a sense of worthlessness means I'm a fucking NARSISSIST? Oh no, wait, me telling you about it makes me a narcissist. So sane people keep their lives to themselves I see.

Entitlement? Over-inflated sense of the worth of their actions? So, I'm a liar too? Everything I write here is just exaggeration? An attempt to turn what I do into something meaningful when really I accomplish nothing? Gee, thanks. I'm glad I'm such a worthless sack of shit in your eyes.

Ok, I'm contempuous sometimes, so, what, is that two out of all the symptoms?

Fuck, this situation has made me so angry. If whoever sent that is actually reading this, do me a favour. Get over YOUR delusions of omniscience as to what's wrong with me and get the fuck out of my life. I don't really care if you're "trying to do good" because it is my belief (I am allowed to have those without you turning them into clinical mental disorders) that "trying" doesn't matter worth shit. Success or failure are all that matter. And you failed, unless you goal is to actually hurt me. Then hope I never find you.

The worst part is that it's probably someone I know, someone I once cared for. Dig the knife deep you asshole, because somehow I let you get this close.

Posted by Kurrs at 2:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Fuck you. No, better, fuck off and die. Is there nothing better you can do with your fucking time than hurt me? And better yet, I know, let's send the message anonymously. You fucking coward.

If you really think I'm such a demented, fucked-up individual, then stop reading my blog. Or do you enjoy causing me pain? Who's really the arrogant conceited one? The person who tries desperately to treat people with honour and respect despite the fact that they terrible things. The person who does their best EVERY FUCKING SECOND OF EVERY FUCKING DAY to act in a responsible way, in every aspect of their life. The person who would sacrifice almost everything in order to perform some greater good (if there was a way I'd do it).

Or you, sitting in your secure, secret, and self-righteous seat that you can speak your dictums from.

If I thought there was something wrong with you, I'd tell you, to your face. I wouldn't skulk around in the shadows, stabbing me when I was in rough times. My house, which I love, might be gone soon. My girlfriend, which I love, is gone now. An educational week that I spent months working on and planning for flopped and yet, for fear out of people not pulling their weight next year, I need to be very careful about who I talk to about those feelings. I'M UPSET YOU FUCKING CUNT.

And if I wasn't, you'd just accuse me of being some other disorder, one in which I have trouble feeling emotions.

But not you, you're perfect. Secret, aloof, free of criticism.

Posted by Kurrs at 1:58 PM | Permalink

"Democracy is an imperfect institution designed not to maximise gains but to minimise losses. Or, said otherwise, since you have so many people mattering, it is difficult for just one or a few people to screw it up."
- Francisco Gonzalez, Intermediate Macroeconomics Lecture

Posted by Kurrs at 2:41 PM | Permalink

I can't shake it. Nothing's wrong in my family life, nothing's wrong in my school life, my friends are fine, werewolf is doing well, I'm getting over this illness, I still have my morals. There's alot of good.

But there are these pieces of my life, falling apart, and there is nothing I can do about it. The uncertainty of it all is what drives me so mad. That, and the powerlessness. I'm used to being in control, being able to take responsability for my life and where it is. And for the most part, that is still true.

My apartment building might be being sold. Heck, it might even already be sold. And the new owners, if I hear correctly, are planning to redevelop. Tear it down, build up something new. And that means, no matter how much I don't want to, I might have to move. And where would I move? I already found the perfect place, it's exactly where I want, bigger than I wanted, for a price I can afford. What, so I find an exact replica of it within a block or two of its current location? Not bloody likely. It doesn't matter that it might/will happen. It's more that I merely have to accept it. If it does happen, or doesn't is entirely out of my control. The situation upsets me.

Me and Erin aren't together anymore. Haven't been since last Friday, and I've known about this certainty since the Friday before that, and in many ways have been waiting for this to happen since the beginning of our relationship. Still haven't managed to tell anyone in person except for Meg. Not my friends, not my family, no-one but Meg. Nothing particularly fantastic or amazing about it, just... pffft... Done. The worst part is that it may not be forever. She still loves me and I still love her, but Erin's got some stuff to figure out, and it might take her a while to figure it out, and that doesn't include me. Once again, it was my choice, so at least I can blame the temporary/permanent split of us on myself. However, what the future holds, much like the apartment thing, is totally unknown and out of my sphere of influence. The situation really upsets me.

Both for the fact that I have no control over whether it will work again or not, but also that nothing particularly bad happened. Every break-up I've had so far has been a release, has at least included some sense of relief or freedom. The only thing that this break-up has managed to let me do is cry. Not enough though. I'd rather my entire body be wracked with sobbing until I can feel the chasm of my own depression widen before me and engulf everything. At least then I could have release. But instead, I'm just kinda sad all the time, smiling to people so they don't worry about me.

I'm just sharing. I don't want comfort or worry. I just find it difficult to keep things inside me, alone, especially now when there's this void of loneliness where Erin occupied in my life. A lie for other's benefit. I don't want to bother my friends, but at the same time I don't to have to lie to them to get them to not worry about me. There's bigger fish to fry, more important things to do, I just want to be honest.

Posted by Kurrs at 12:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

All my totems are predators and scavengers. It doesn't matter if you believe in any form of mysticism or spirituality, it's just a convinient metaphor for describing me. To survive, you must be strong, ruthless, destroy and eat the fruits of your destruction. Anything worth doing was only ever done in great intensity, otherwise don't bother doing it. Conflict is to be determined through ritualised shows of strength within an agreed societal framework, real strife is to be utterly defeated or hidden from. Be wary of others, they might be a threat. Keep those close to you as close as possible, family, whether biological or constructed, is everything. Do not suffer weakness, even within your family unit, it will only bring you and everyone else down. Love intensely and completely, leave frivolous love to the weaklings and herbavores.

It guides my actions, my way of life, and not always for the best. It means I'm a workaholic, and that I need challenge in my life, that domination and hierarchy are necessary and good.

But sometimes, my scarred and battered soul is frustrating. I'm no longer the cub, pawing at my meal, playing with the other cublings, wide-eyed and innocent. I'm the lone predator, having left his family unit early, and am scarred and experienced for it. I regret nothing, but see the negative consequences of my actions even though I accept them.

Sometimes I wish that I could let go, and just... be with other people. Give into that herding instinct that so many people seem to have. But I keep them at arm's length, because I seem to only be good at two kinds of interactions: close and not at all. I'm charismatic and bad at dealing with people at the same time. I'm driven and without empathy for the... weakness that plagues our species. Be strong, work hard, do what you want to, give in to nothing. If you have a weakness, be stronger, overcome it. If you believe in something, fight for it, never give in. If you think something is wrong, don't do it.

But the world does not share my opinions, or feelings, or way of life. It is a herd, moving as a complex group. Social norms determine actions more often than personal desire, because the personal desire is to fit into the social norms.

If eating meat was inappropriate, no one would do it. If buying sweatshop-clothing was inappropriate, no one would do it. People want their world to function, but don't really care why or how, as long as it does. Change enough people, change the social norm, and the world will follow. Why? Because people _like_ to follow others. But not individuals, people like to follow the group.

Posted by Kurrs at 10:25 AM | Permalink

Posted by Kurrs at 5:45 PM | Permalink