# 13 With A Machete And Hordes Of Zombies

Check it out, my 13th post. I feel so proud...sniff.

You know. Sometimes I really wish there was a real life zombie outbreak like in the movies. Like Romero's movies though, I do kinda want to have the upper hand by being able to walk right by the goddamn things and not like in the 28 days later fashion were fuckers run and shit. Zombie outbreaks are a very weird, very interesting social study reference and psycological research combined with amazing quantities of blood, that's why I love them so much.

Bare this in consideration. In zombie movies, the main characters are generally portrayed as to being a prominent part of society, be it the wimp or the muscle builder, the nerdy or the idiot, the hot I-don't-give-a-fuck chick or the elderly woman fighting her last breaths, and of course, the stuborn asshole. All these means, rest assured, that their personalities will be in constant debate, trying to figure out what the hell to the next.

It's so great, I mean being in the middle of that conflict and accepting things as they are. Working the differences and moving on with life. Truth is, in many movies the director and/or writters decide to infer certain aspects of every day life. First of all, every single shred of power that was held by money, social class, religion, etc... is overruled. Fuck that, I want to live. In this situations, the leader is generally the ones with the brains or the balls. They can either get out of a situation using their intelligence or brute force (and perhaps some very gory suicide tendencies...like bolting towards a crowd of those things with a chainsaw).

Second, fuck the president. A homeless man who is crazy and missing a hand, feet, eye or all of the above (previous) has the exact same chance of survival than the pope, probably even more. If any man, ANY MAN, who ever worked as a body guard was stupid enough to go on protecting that same person when all hell has broken loose, that man not onloy deserves to die. He deserves to be entertainment (as in the guy in the movie who dies the most bloodiest way). Think about it. Regardless of your beliefs, no amount of prayer will drive the undead away. A good wack to the head will do the job.

Third, and probably the one you might get to the conclusion that I'm sick, but try to follow me on this one. Feminity, fuck it. Girls wanna live to. Let's make a brief test. On one hand, you got a regular type of woman (the fuck do I know what regular is), on the other hand, you have a woman who doesn't give a fuck. Who do you think will make it...

If you're answer was one of them, you got it wrong. Who will make it is impossible to tell. In this situations, any live, reasoning human being will surely know that in order to survive, it is mandatory to give in towards you're sadistic side. Fuck how it looks like, even if it's my daughter, zombies will be zombies and period. The first woman might realize that screaming for help, waiting for her prince to rescue her just won't cut it. She needs to become fearless, reach for the nearest weapon and start the head bashing. Again, both have equally chances of survival. Maybe the other one becomes reckless and fuck it up for her.

This is probably the most interesting fact for me. The female psyche is difficult to crack in vast proportions. A woman that understands this, to me, is quite a turn on. HOLD ON, let me make my point. Picture this, a once really preaty girl has now blood all over herself, ragged or shreded cloathes and is really really scared. That might seem as the perfect vissual for a horror scene and not quite sexy. Here's how I see it. Here's a woman, the "weak" sex, that has just beaten her biggest fears, gott a hold of the situation and kicked some mayor ass. Here is a confident woman who knows beyond the reason of a doubt the price and preciousness of living.

She now sees things in a hole new perspective. She could've died a gruesome death and to avoid it, she performed a gruesome murder. Femininity isn't about being sugar and spice, bullshit, is about a woman's spirit, a woman's greatness. Fuck her nails, she wants to live. A woman like that, is a woman for me.

Now do you see were do I come off telling you a zombie outbreak would be kinda cool. No gobernments, no religions, no wars. Just like John Lennon said. That's the price. Get it, that's the price for human peace, the ongoing threat to our lives. Here, it isn't money or power that matter, it's you life...Besides, all my friends would know what to do in case of an attack.

Mister Bitchin, hoping for a better world.

Ha, life short mates. Time is fast not to do what you want to do, and know that you can do. Peace my darlings, and remember, it's not over till it's over. That goes for you too.

A Paranoid Is The Person Who Has All The Answers

Police brutality, politicians lying, things getting fucked up.

WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT FROM US?

Whoever and whatever the fuck YOU are. I mean FUCK, can't I get a fucking break for every once in a while.

Fuck this, fuck anything. Yeah I bitch, but only here. In my everyday life I'm a self respected little cunt. Any day of the week, you choose, any fucking day of the week I'm a nice little easy going kinda guy who gives anything out. But what the fuck do I have to do to get ONE MISSERABLE FUCKING BREAK. I mean what. Do I fucking shout to people? Do I behave like a real bastard and spit, curse, break or shit on everything that I can?

What? Just what the fuck is needed? SHIT!!!! fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck

FUCK IT. FUCK IT NOW AND FUCK IT FOREVER

Good guys finish last, I should now that by now. I should believe that by now. Just fuck it. Fuck it and be fucked by it...

Jesus...

I can't. Hell, I know sooner than later I might feel sorry for writting this and I know that my fucking luck is so wonderful and so peachy, I just now I'm gonna pay for this. I do the right thing and play by the book, I get the shit thrown at me. I do the wrong thing and send the book to go fuck itself, I get fucked. So what the hell, If I'm gonna get fucked, the least I could do is just bent my anger.

I just don't care anymore, I don't care what may come of this. The only thing I care about is it ending, one way or another. My fucking hippity hoppity adventure, my up and downs. Just fuck it. What will I get out of this. Knowing how to choose my friends. Fuck.

So, I don't give a fuck who reads this. If you know me or not, good. And if you do, well I was gonna crack sooner than later. Shouldn't be any fucking surprise. But didn't I said things were gonna be allright. Didn't I say that we would still be friends. I fought for such a long time. I fought the fucking truth for so long so not to hurt anyone. But what the fuck was I thinking. I was huting myself. I was killing myself. And then, just when I see my chance for redemtion, coming of clean, this happens. I become honest to my friend, I DO THE RIGHT FUCKING THING. And this happens, once again, just like before. No previous warning. Caught me right by surprise. And when it does, there's nothing to do. No one to call. No one to accuse or blame or even somenone to talk to. Just me and my writing. It won't be for long. Not for long.

You're never truly alone, there just is the feeling of being alone. But you're never alone. so fuck it. I might be wrong, nothing might have changed and by writing this I might be fucking things even more. But as I said before, the worst times I've been fucked were all due to me not listening to the fucking signals. The worst times came from me not following my gut feeling. The worst came from me, not being me. So fuck it, fuck what tomorrow might bring. I'm ready for it. There hardly is anything more hurtful. My parents and siter or one of my close friends dying perhaps. But hardly anything more than that.

So just fuck it. After all...

...

Just fuck it. What can I do, but wait.

And since my life is a joyfull oyster, there's a good chance you read this. I don't think you come to this page often, or perhaps you ever have. Doesn't matter, it would certainly fit with the past experiences. If you do, I'm sorry. But after a while, it just isn't fair. And I'm not angry at you.. I'm angry at the world. I'm angry at him. I'm angry at myself and I don't know if I did the right thing telling him. I don't know if I did the right thing trusting him. Maybe I should've told you first.

But that's not me.

Remember, The Day Anyone Doesn't See me Smiling, That'll be the Day It Get's Cold in Hell. And I'm still in love with the fucking world, 'cause you still have that look. Thanks.

Under the Dim and Flickering Fluorescent Lighting

Reading helps.

Heeeeeeeeeeeeey there, it's been some time since the last time I wrote anything here. Not that you might care, just wanted to set that straight. Well I could tell you the ins and outs of my life and what has been going on lately but that much isn't necesary. Fuck it, it's boring to most people. And since I'm writing for mainly for me (because there hardly is anybody that reads this) I'll just have fun here and there.

Last night, a close friend of mine (kudos to her) passed me this link to a flash animation. Now, I'm used to watch stupid funny flash animations. You know, the kind you find at newgrounds or in youtube when you're bored and clearly have nothing else to do. But what I saw...just imagine that near the end my brain kinda came. It was fucking brilliant. Like something really, really smart in that the whole thing was as simple as black letters on a white background and a jazz soundtrack. It's a poem called Lotus Blosom, the catch is that it dealt with what I now hold as a sacred art called Deconstruction. Deconstruction is basically graving a concept, shifting it's order and setting a new one in which there really is no star and end, but more likely an endless trail of images and/or words that at first might make no sense.

Jaques Derrida (surprinsingly, a french) gave this term to the world in the 60's and employed it to literature. I could explain what deconstruction is or isn't as said on wikipedia. Effortlesly, of course, since no matter how carefully I chose the words, I just couldn't explain it. It's one of those things you have to see for yourself. Besides, how does one explain something that has an inexisting order?

My first run into this technique was about 3 months ago when I saw the highly anticipated (to me) Deconstructing Harry. In my opinion, this is Woddy Allen's best fucking movie (Woody Allen writes, stars and directs this movie). In it, deconstruction is done throughout the movie that leads the viewer into a long series of analysis to the main character, and onto ourselves. After watching it, I pratically pranced around the house like a happy little bunny rabbit. It surprised the hell out of me, got my heart pumping in a verry weird way I couldn't describe. I can't, The same happened with the poem. It feels almost as if finding out something new and exciting. Like I said, makes your brain cum.

I know that sounds disgusting, but fuck you. How else would you describe it? Imagine watching a movie and getting a hold of so many abstract ideas and thoughts that start making you wonder half a dozen types of different shit. Shortly afterwards, I began smoking. I know how it sounds, don't jump into conclusions...judgemental pricks. The first time it's life changing. It fucks you up. It makes you wonder, act, react, think and more things I can't think of at the moment.

After you see something like this, you start judging and going about the external way of things. Fuck everything else. I know I did. Life's too fucked up, there isn't any other way of putting it. You visualize what is that which is really valuable. What is really important and such. That's why I fucking love this jewish son of a bitch, and yes in that "PUT YOUR BALLS IN MY MOUTH" kinda way. Probably not, but you never know. Woody is one more genius this sorry ass world will one day miss dearly. It is my mission to meet him before that happens.

Because not a lot of times in this life will you really feel something as distant as a movie, talk to you. It changes you.

It fucks you up.