I don’t know why it took me until now to find out, but it came as a legitimate surprise that Hunter S. Thompson shot himself. I haven’t read much of his work, but that I’ve encountered has truly been rewarding. I’m glad he got a chance to live up until his late 60s, and got a chance to make peace with those he loved. It’s more than many get.
I may need to take a break from social media for a while. Let’s see if this lasts.
I cannot identify the bloodied bodies of my loved ones. They were killed whilst watching a new television show on the MTV network, one where Kim Kardashian is chased through woodland by a giant bear wearing a mask which carries the visage of recently deceased film director Michael Winner.
The bear has apparently not qualified for a workplace pension and is angry with Daniel Day Lewis for what he perceives as the relative lack of action in There Will Be Blood.
…Anyway, after twenty minutes of panic running around intercut with interviews with friends and other celebrities, the production team behind the show all simultaneously come to the same horrifying conclusion: their waste of the precious gift of life which has been given to them by science.
They start attacking themselves with the nearest available objects, breaking off camera tripods to ram them bloodily into each other’s eyes, climbing up the highest branches of trees to fall face down on to the pulsing earth, the whole time shrieking and screaming with the sudden primal vigour of lost souls who have forgotten language and seem intent on shouting their black hearts from their grey, semi erect chests."
I find it strangely frustrating that my grieving behavior actually seems to follow the 5 stages of grief. There’s some little part of my brain that insists I’m a ~~*special little butterfly*~~ that can’t be so easily understood.
It’s just one of those days.
I think the very fact that I hesitate so much before posting anything personal on this blog anymore is indicative of some deeply personal flaws. That and anything I can say pales in comparison to the quality of the stuff I reblog.
If there ever was a personal reason to drop out of school, it’s this one. Emotions are a pain, literally.
There’s this cavernous hole inside me that only feels filled when I get good grades. I’m happy to say I got over 90% in all of my classes this quarter.
I suppose one could say I really filled up my A-hole.
and now, the debut of my new musical “Put My Grade Back Where It Was Before My Final Or So Help Me”