For what is a man, what has he got...

Sorry being MIA for so long, my fellow Sad Bastards. 2010 has started off as year of ending all of the bullshit in my life and standing up for myself. Being a MAN in every sense of the word. No more being sensitive and walking on eggshells for anyone or anything. You don't like me, go away. This goes for women, employers, friends, neighbors, etc...

I just don't care anymore if people like me. Going through the ringer of bullshit in my first 31 years of existence has made me do a lot of thinking about who I am and what I stand for. Pretty sure at this juncture of my life that I will not be changing too much. So if you don't like me or you want me to change, tough fucking shit. No more holding my tongue and dancing around uncomfortable shit, I am going head on. I leave you with a man who put up with minimal bullshit and lived the dream:

My Body Is A Cage

There was an hour last week - a golden hour - where everything was going my way. I shit you not! I'd come into some money, I'd convinced this girl that I dig to pay me a visit at the lair, and work was shockingly less retarded than normal. Of course, true to form, things fell apart just as quickly as they'd come together. Yep, whilst preparing for my visitor I ended up getting paint on my favourite wool coat. So there went the little bit of cash that I'd lucked into; straight to the dry cleaning bill. The visit itself was mired in awkwardness from the onset. So much so, in fact, that I'm pretty sure I can't ever call her again. Well, I could call her...if I wanted to get labeled as a creep or stalker. And work, not to be outdone, ratcheted up the level of retardation to a point that, prior to this week, was (almost) completely unheard of.

But you know what? Being a sad bastard, I could handle all of that. Hell, by now I'm more than used to losing money and women. And work? Sheeeit, by its very definition work is supposed to suck. No, the real kick in the balls came when I was lifting weights this past weekend, trying to forget about the shit show from the days before, when some way, somehow, I managed to wrench my back. So now, not only am I unable to retreat into exercise as a means of escaping my failures and foibles, but I can't sleep, walk, drive, wank, or even breathe, without being in discomfort. Best of all, this thing seems to be taking its sweet time to heal. I know that in my younger days I would have bounced back like it was nothing. But not now. Oh no, my body is giving up the ghost all over the place. I can't eat or drink like I used to (well, I could...if I wanted to become morbidly obese and die shortly thereafter) and now I, apparently, can't exercise like I used to in the past either. How fucking sad is that? I've said it before and I'll say it again; getting old is a drag.

So, if you bastards don't see me for a couple of weeks, it's because I'm sprawled out on the floor of my place with a heat pad on my back, popping oxycodone tablets and crying.

This Heartbreak Shall...Not Endure?

I've learned over the years (granted, for me those years have been relatively limited) that when one holds onto a certain feeling, a certain animosity, a certain misery, one can't help but identify with that feeling, eventually one even comes to identify one's self in/as that feeling, that animosity, that misery. It almost becomes a comfort, a place you can always crawl into because it's always there for you. After all, isn't that what we're all about?

But what if one day, with little or no warning, that place that you run to, that feeling in which you normally find solace, that animosity, no longer seems appropriate? What if you're left exposed to that piece of information or that grapevine whisper you've always dreaded, ready to steel yourself against it with that trusted and familiar barricade, only to find that that feeling, that animosity, that misery has absconded in the night? It no longer holds true. It no longer sends you into the tailspin that you always prepared yourself for? Suddenly that dreaded moment, once realized, no longer fills you with the need to crawl into the depths of sadness that we all, at least at times, inhabit? That cold wall against which we normally rail in a withering fury has been taken down, brick by brick.

Oh sweet relief?

One would think so. But for some reason I'm feeling like it's kinda weak-sauce. Almost as if to say, "Well, now what?"

For What It's Worth

Have a Happy New Year and don't get too fucked up tonight, sad bastards.

I've Changed My Role To Villain

"Sweeping legs is our business...and business is good."

So, after an impossibly long stint as a Nice Guy, I've finally decided to call it quits. In hindsight, the move from Protagonist to Antagonist has been a long time coming. Truth be told, I was a pretty shitty Nice Guy; honesty, generosity, selflessness, were never my strong suits. Deceit, guile, avarice, spitefulness, and selfishness, on the other hand, have always been brewing just below the surface. That said, it should come as no surprise that I've now set my sights on villainy.

I think I've got a lot of natural potential as a villain, but I'm still going to need to study and train in order to get up to snuff. Cos there's really no such thing as an overnight success, right?

Looks Like I Picked The Wrong Month To Stop Banging Prostitutes

"so thirsty...so very thirsty."
Talk about dry spells, it's like Death Valley here at SBSC HQ as of late. What's more, every time the skies look as if they might bring forth rain, the clouds suddenly dissipate and the sun seems to burn twice as hot as before. No bullshit. I am dying out here. Of course, if there are any lessons to be learned from all of this, it's that tough times are no excuse for weak game. You gotta figure that if you can keep your wits about you when the world is coming down around your ears, then things should be a cakewalk when everything comes back online.

That said, take some time to familiarize yourself with the D.E.N.N.I.S. System; you'll be glad that you did.

An Unforgivable Sin

We may be sad, my fellow bastards, but may we never be so sad that we stoop to the level of those wretched men who practice the most vile and petty of evils; cockblockery.