Waves and waves and waves and crash and waves.

I detest almost every emotion that comes to me, be they mine, be they yours.







You know what I hate? I hate love. Not the way that pretentious heartbroken poets hate love, the way that a realist hates love. To believe in love is immature, childish, a fairy tale life. Love is like politics. Dirty lies and tolerance for people that you dont really care that much about at all, just so they'll keep you around for a few more years. Yeah, I like that.







The reason I cant be happy for anyone is because most of the people who are happy dont even know it, and when they do know it, they dont know why. Unappreciative for one of the most amazing feelings you can never have. If you're happy and you dont know it, how do you know you're happy? How do you know you're just not sad? I hope I bummed you out, you deserve it.







I hate the fact that I like Charles Bukowski. Why? Have you met Charles Bukowski fans? Imagine a Phish fan who intentionally drives themselves into an alcoholic slump to achieve that necessary "status" of a good writer. You're pathetic.







How do you not like Iron Maiden?







My current favorite thing to do is play drums. I think it's because it provides me an opportunity to drown out the sounds of you guys bitching about scarves.







How do you not like Iron Maiden?







Never trust someone who falls into any of the following categories;

-They dont listen to Iron Maiden
-They dont drink, and I stress this.*

-They have an overwhelmingly blunt faith in a religion. Any religion.

-They lack subtlety in general.

-They have a tendency to not adapt to their situation, but to mimic it. In laments terms, you fucking idiot, a product of their environment. This suggests a feeble personality, thus inconsistancy, thus a lack of trust.

-They find tattoos to be immoral and wrong.

-They're overly political, unless their profession requires them to be so. A business major has no fucking place telling me shit about D.C.

-They've never smoked pot before.*

-They love their highschool.

-They spend more time perfecting themselves than they do destroying themselves.

-They believe the swine flu is in fact a plague. Shit, if they think it's even a problem at all, kick them straight to the curb.

-They think blogging is actually a legitimate form of writing and can build a career solely on it. I'm looking your way Perez Hilton, you stinky pile of twice excreted feces. Ok, honestly, how the fuck does this burden on society, this big fat fucking puss-filled boil on the image of America, get away with being on TV, yet they wont legalize pot or gay marriage due to morality issues? Though I suppose that's me being overly political.

-They like Perez Hilton.

-They like Paris Hilton.

-They have the gall, the unrelenting nerve to break your concentration with a phone call that says "Dude, James. I accidently smoked pot. No, no I mean like, I gave into peer pressure and now I'm driving and... hey, James. Am I driving alright? I'm not speeding am I? Ok cool. OH WAIT, SHIT. What street does Richard live on again? ...I think I just passed it. Dude, I'm too high for this, I have to go."

-They consider a Mr. Robert Zimmerman to be one of the best vocalists of all time. If they consider him to have a better voice than Van Morrison, I urge you to stab them with the nearest, dullest, rustiest object you can get your slimey little mits on.

-They dont like any sport at all. Having said that, I'd like to clarify that they needn't be a sports fanatic. They dont even have to play the sport. If you can't talk to a stranger in a bar about any sports event to have ever happened, you should be cast out of society to live with the rest of the un-physically active critters wandering around the once lush, now toxic forests of America.

-They love Mother Nature. Haiti. New Orleans. China. The dinosaurs. Need me to keep going?

-They dont like comedy. If you have no sense of humor, you really, truely will never ever find joy in life. You know who doesnt have a sense of humor? The suicide bombers. Maybe follow their example, except you dont have to kill dozens of other innocent people, but then again, that's just me being overly political.



*These instances dont apply to a Mr. Tyler Witte, because he's amazing, and he's pure of any and all inebriating substances.







I've begun writing a memoir. Unless you want your name to be completely, ruthlessly, brutally honestly, and hilariously tarnished, I suggest either getting your game tight, or stop talking to me.












"James likes most of us... Right?"