Inspiration

 So tonight I went nostalgic and started listening to bands from my youth with my lovely girlfriend. We went through the misfits, she of-course rolled her eyes as I explained why people may like them. Went through the Dropkick Murphy  she admittedly likes and finally I remembered a band that actually got me into music, Natsumen. Natsumen, admittedly, is not an easy band to get into, they're a jazz fusion rock ensemble that likes to improv through most of their songs. Tonight, while listening to a song I haven't heard from them, I got goosebumps, a reminder of why I love music. Their style just gives me hope, lets me feel when I was a kid, picking up my first guitar. The girlfriend however, didn't see it this way. She predictably called it shit and said she didn't get it. What makes her so hate-able is that she is the type of person that words things correctly for guard sake. For example, she won't put down anything you like outright but use the padded words "in my opinion" or to "to me". Technically she's right, an opinion cannot be wrong but saying "to me, this band sounds like shit" makes me want to drive my meaty fist into her face. This isn't a blog about her, the woe is me talk is dumb, there's a million livejournals with that just in in my opinion I think people, like my girlfriend should be burned then stabbed to death.

Natsumen has again helped me to become inspired, pick up my guitar and write something. It's weird how the band members will never quite know how important they are to me. Music for a while was my only friend, my only family. I remember being young, about 8 and just isolated from society. My father forbade me to go out while he was gone, so it was just me, alone in an apartment for days on end. No one would check on me, no one knew I was there. I just remember rummaging and finding his music collection and figuring out how to connect everything so I could listen. When I played that first cassette I was finally not alone anymore, I wasn't going to lose my mind.

The beginning

As I sit here on a Saturday night, at 11:37 PM, I've been listening to reggaeton for the past hour and a half. I hate raggaeton, not only is it awful but you just know that people are having a good time . Hispanic men, sitting around, maybe  singing along with the song like a soccer chant and the women, uncomfortably dancing with their prepubescent sons.  I never understood why family, mainly hispanic households, danced sexually with one another. Looking at some of the mom's, they're pretty hot. I remember when I was 13, the mere thought of anything near my dick would create this...this thing that I had to shove through a fist, wall, pillow etc. So when I see this dancing, a bunch of confused feelings are just really being formulated whilst the mom is giving her son a lap dance. Is the rod just an unspoken thing? Does the mom think she still got it? You know, by giving the son or nephew a hard on he doesn't want to explain and will suppress for most of his adult life. It's questions and over thinking that has led me here, a state of isolation.  They're all singing together now, the incest party seems nice. Their throats will be sore tomorrow morning and they'll laugh and feel good about the night before. I'm jealous.

I don't know why I started this blog, perhaps it's so I stop talking to myself out loud or perhaps is so I can pat myself on the back for writing, even though I tell everyone I'm a writer. In a time where everyone is starting blogs to pirate, be pervs or create "funny" writings to eventually cash out for a book, I'm doing none of those things. I'm keeping this blog quiet, this blog will be where my disgusting thoughts get jotted down. Pixels in an endless oceans of bits will be lost in the flood of over stimulation we are all washing away in. I'm not a writer, don't let those horrible metaphors confuse you. I'm just a desperate fellow, seeking peace from that heavy feeling in my heart. The feeling of wanting to yell but not having a voice, the feeling of wanting to laugh but no one to share it with, the feeling of wanting to die but being too cowardly.

So here I am, if you find this, you were most likely a young lady going through a confusing time. If so, welcome to womanhood. The second most likely person to stumble across this if some degenerate looking for some period pussy. If you haven't tried it, don't. It's disgusting, unless you like blood jelly.