Poopz.

Hey guys,

so like I said, I'm writing a memoir (christ I hate that word. It's pretentious as balls.) about my last days in high school. I've kind of already started, so if you're interested at all you can check that out here.

"The experience of being me right now is exhilarating."

I was thinking about god recently. I'm an agnostic, but sometimes I think there might actually be a god. Weed might just be evidence of some kind of higher power (no pun intended). Think about it. It's a fucking plant that gets you high if you smoke it with no setbacks; if you use it correctly.

I've been reading Nic Sheff's book "Tweak" lately. I'm almost finished, and so far it's pretty good. I really like Nic Sheff as a dude, even more so than as a writer. Even if he wasn't ever hooked on drugs, and never wrote "Tweak" he would still be rad. Sometimes when I'm really bored I picture myself meeting different people I like. Like, what would lunch with Nic Sheff be like? It would be fucking awesome. Lunch with Hitler would be very interesting too. The whole time he would be trying to kill me, and I would be like "Silly Hitler! Times have changed!" Some people believe Hitler escaped and didn't actually shoot himself. I could see how that could be plausible, but it's just so Hitler to just fucking shoot himself and get it over with. Hitler was smart, and no one really gives him credit for that. If you look over the fact that he was a dickhead, he needed intelligence to lead a nation of people like that.

How fucked up is it that Hitler's skull still exists? This skull is basically a symbol for the bullshit humans are capable of. Sure, we can save someone's skull, but what the fuck is the significance of having it? I guess it must help the tourism in Russia or something.



The Russians extracted it and fucking ran away with it. I'd love to visit it someday. What an experience that would be.

Anyway, after reading some "Tweak" this morning, it occurred to me that I could write a memoir too! I'm gonna try to write a memoir about my days in grade 12. I'll write about everyday life, but if I find it distracting me I'll just stop doing it for awhile. Obviously it won't be as good as "Tweak", and it won't get published; but it'll be good practice for later work. Writing it will also inspire me to live a much more fun life.

I wonder what will happen when all the bloggers of this generation eventually die. Will Blogger leave our work here to mysteriously still exist? That would be great, because in some cultures they believe you're still alive if material of you (like a picture) exists.

Ramblings on a late August night.

I was thinking about how truly privileged I am while I was taking a shit tonight. It really is something. When school is in progress it usually acts as a smokescreen to my optimism, but I really am privileged. At this point in my life, nothing can really hurt my feelings. What the fuck can someone say to me that will truly bother me? I'm short? So what....I'm probably smarter than you, if you care about my height. Seriously, the only thing you can say that might ring up some sort of reaction is, "Why do you not have a girlfriend?" (The other day my NEIGHBOR asked me that. Family is one thing, but my NEIGHBOR?) But even that is stretching it. I'm at this place where I've gotten used to the lack of girls and the stigma of not fucking one yet doesn't affect me anymore. Nowadays I see fucking a girl along the lines of visiting Amsterdam. I hear it's amazing, and I'll definitely visit someday, but for now; whatever. Also: my view of porking girls isn't really magical and fairy-tale-y anymore. In fact, I'm not sure I'd even like to have sex with a girl that isn't a prostitute. I just want to fuck someone really experienced that I have no attachment to one day, and then run away as soon as I cum. I'm actually seriously not excited about cumming in the presence of someone else anymore. I would just feel fucking gross right after.

Anyway, like I was saying about myself being privileged: I seriously take it for granted. This year alone I've been to 5 new places, I've seen one of my heroes live in my beloved Toronto twice, and I've met new people and created new friendships. This summer I can say for certain that I've matured significantly. In fact, whenever I talk to my parents I feel like a fish out of the water or something. It's like I just got mature overnight, and it's an elephant in the room. I think the reason I'm so mature is because I'm 17. 17 year-olds are smart because that's the age before you're allowed to do everything you want: 18. So you try to prove to the world that you're worthy of those rights, and you act like you know everything. At least I do. Sometimes I come off like an asshole, but I try to make up for it.

It sucks that all of this positive outlook will be in the shitter when school starts in September. I really don't know why I can't control it, but for some reason the depression gets the better of me every fucking year. I don't know why high school is so hard either, I just wish everyone could be friends. I wish for one year everyone was like, "Hey, no hard feelings about that shit that happened." And if there are no "hard feelings" in the first place, then I don't see why you shouldn't be already hanging the fuck out with that person. I think that everyone should have gotten together at the end of the school year and made a schedule out for our entire summers. That way we'd get to see everyone we wanted. I still need to hang out with a lot of people, and August is almost fucking over. I usually play "Summer's Almost Gone" by The Doors a lot around this time of the year.

One thing that bothers me, despite all my happiness: I haven't done anything other than this blog this summer in terms of creativity. I've wrote a lot, but I haven't written a novel this summer. I'm hoping to finish a one act play at motherfucking LEAST.

I saw the movie Julia & Julia tonight. It reminded me how beautiful the world of blogging really is. Blogging is hilarious because it is selfish in that you are talking about yourself all the time, but it's generous in the sense that your blabbering is for others. In the movie Amy Adams has a brief argument with her husband over her (seemingly) narcissistic attitude due to her blog. They get back together eventually, but it was funny to me because the issue of her alleged selfishness wasn't ever resolved. That's what the fuck a blog is. One person (or more, if you have cool friends) writes about scratching his dick in Nebraska, and I read about it over here.

That reminds me; recently I was introduced to this website called Omegle. Basically it serves as a 24 hour chat service with people all across the globe. You can start a chat with someone, and just as easily "Disconnect" whenever you like (which, you will absolutely need to fucking use. There are some fucked up people on this site). Lately I've been using it to tell people about my blog. A lot of Brazilians read this blog: that's fucking rad! I've always wanted to go to fucking Brazil. If you haven't tried Omegle and you're like-minded you'll probably enjoy it. You get to talk to people from all over the world. You might even bump into me on there.

100th Post!

Although it happened awhile ago, I didn't mention it here: my goldfish turned a year old. On July 15th 2009, marked the first official year of buying my goldfish, and bringing it home to live. Some people still frown upon the notion of taking care of a goldfish as opposed to a cat or a dog. I say, why the fuck not? They're really easy and affordable to take care of, and they also make great pets. Personally, I have definitely gotten attached to this fucking goldfish. I feel like such a loser saying it, but that goldfish is definitely something that keeps me going. It feels good to know that no matter how shitty I may feel on a particular day, I can always make the life of my goldfish better by simply feeding it. So far I have taught my goldfish one "trick". Before I feed it, I put my index finger in the tank and it nibbles my finger to indicate it's hungry. To me, the goldfish is the perfect pet for me. It's in it's own world, and it's by itself. I can relate to this goldfish. It's independent, energetic, and bored.

Something that has been intriguing me lately: the idea of something EXISTING. Existing, to me, is amazing. Existence is one of those odd fucking human things, like death, that you are forced to accept. You can't pretend you'll live forever like a little kid, or deny something's existence.

Existence is fascinating to me for another reason. Once something exists, it WINS. I say that because, once something has existed, even if it has been destroyed, it will be apart of history (like the titanic!). And after all, technically being "apart of history" is good right? Who doesn't want to be remembered? Even being remembered negatively is better than not being remembered at all.

That's why I'd like to record a conversation to post here or something in the near future, with one of my good friends. I've always liked the feel of conversations heard. Something about hearing conversations recorded is just so much more special than reading them. I tried recording a conversation with a friend in late June, and it turned out to be complete shit, due to the wind raping the microphone.

Anyway, I just realized I didn't really have anything to say, I just signed in here and started writing. One more thing to touch on though: I haven't acknowledged that this is my 100th post for this blog. Obviously there were some short bullshitty updates, but seriously; that is still an awesome number to me. Thanks to everyone reading: you're really nice fucking people for investing your time in this! I appreciate it. I just put that "followers" tool at the sidebar if you actually give a shit and would like to start following my blog using Google somehow (Google is fucked. They keep doing impressive new shit I don't know about.) Another thing I have added is this little feature called "Google AdSense". Apparently, if I put ads for Google on my site, and they are clicked, I can somehow get paid. Do me a favour and click on the ads a few times when you visit next time.

"You'll be gone tomorrow."

Morrie Schwartz (the Tuesdays With Morrie dude) once said that death is the ultimate equalizer. I was thinking about this recently. In the book, Morrie started to feel bad about something that had happened in the past. Obviously Morrie isn't an example for all cases of death, but I wonder how much truth his "equalizer" comment is. I wonder if the average person's conscience would ever catch up to them in their final days. What if before everyone died they had a full 24 hours where they felt like shit for everything they ever did in their entire lives? A "Shame Hangover", if you will. That would be so much worse than the stereotypical "hell" portrayed in movies and shit. Imagine trying to go to bed on your last night of life and not being able to sleep due to thinking about Nicolas the Dicolas from fucking grade four.

Nicolas, for anyone wondering, was this kid that came to my elementary school, and later moved. I don't remember too much about how he was first accepted, but I do remember kids started disliking him very quickly. He was a little shit disturber, and I remember he was one of those fuckers that started acting out to get attention. He was the type of kid that would leave snot running down his face during recess and chase people, like some kind of ridiculous unhygienic child molester. As inventive as kids are (or downright stupid, depending on how you look at it), Nicolas quickly earned the nickname Nicolas the Dicolas. After a few months of some really wacky Nicolas antics, all the kids were fed up with him. It was like everyone's hate for this fucking kid transcended their hate for each other. They needed all the energy they could to hate Nicolas, so they stopped fighting with each other. Anyway, long story short, someone eventually got their retribution from Nicolas, on behalf of all of the kids. He urinated in a glass of Snapple, closed the lid, and cracked it over Nicolas' head. Piss streamed down his face, and because he was such a weird kid all the time, he kept his mouth open to freak us out. Piss went in his mouth and he had a blank stare, like Elijah Wood's in Sin City. He was totally indifferent to the urine, but felt the pain of the bottle.

For some reason whenever I visit my grandfather, after reading Tuesdays With Morrie, sometimes I feel like I can see what Morrie is talking about through him. Like sometimes I can just see my grandfather looking attentively at the person talking to him, and in his eyes I know he's thinking about something else, like his childhood. How do you go through the rest of your life knowing that it could end at any minute? For younger people, myself included, it's so different. I usually wake up, and I'm like, "Well. I'm fucking alive still. This is sick." I value life, but I still have the world at my feet. So I clearly don't value it as much as an elder. An elder wishes he wouldn't have to take a pill to have his boner back, while the youngster complains that his boner wakes him up in the middle of the night.

For those of you still not convinced you should read Tuesdays With Morrie, think about what a while ago I read it. I've read so much more shit since then, and I still reflect on Tuesdays With Morrie. Morrie is no fad with me, Morrie is my personal Jesus. My other personal Jesus' include: Doug Stanhope and Bob Marley. If everyone lived by the words of these great fucks, the world wouldn't be so bad. (Not ALL their words, but most of 'em).

Late August Goals.

As of tomorrow, half of August will be done. I find time extremely frustrating, but also a bit lovely. It's funny how time keeps going and going; and humans go through the same cycles over and over. Sometimes I can't help but feel like there's no actual god, but time itself is the higher power. I also like to occasionally imagine that time is talking to us, and you can hear if you listen really carefully. The way you respond to it is by being a really extraordinary human being. Every time a new generation comes along I bet time says to the Earth: "Alright, you guys. Time for a game of Life Sudoku. Will you be the ones to uncover the glorious treasures of perfection, happiness, and liberty within the Earth Box?"

There are things I'd still like to do this summer, and the only way to do this is to push myself. I'll never get this shit done if I don't do some aspect of planning. And with that, I give you my Late August Goals.

1. Smoke a lot of salvia.
I did salvia quite a bit in late June/early July. I don't know if it was exclusive to me, but I felt that the salvia had really valuable properties in it. Salvia is a drug that basically manipulates time. Right after you're finished tripping, you feel like years and years have gone by. While you're tripping it literally feels like the remote control of your life just got "Fast Forwarded" by Adam fucking Sandler. This effect does something special and unexplainable to you intellectually. You start to feel like, "Well, I'm just a human." You see yourself and your surroundings in the most basic, crystal clear terms.

I'd like to do a lot of salvia at the end of summer to mentally prepare me for this upcoming school year. Salvia, for me, in a nutshell counteracts the effects of weed. Instead of slowing your brain down enough to see the finer things in life, it does the opposite but turns out to do the same thing (but a lot better) once you've sobered up.

2. Hang out with friends a lot more.
Although I have already been doing this, I'd like to continue doing so. That motherfucking heartwarming grandfather of a book, Tuesday's With Morrie has still stayed with me. Morrie says moments with others are what make the world interesting, and they will ultimately be what you reflect on in your last days. Seriously, now that I think about it, I don't want to be remembered as the depressed asshole that painted everyone's day with shit. Maybe the depressed guy that made you laugh or think, but not that shit. Depression is a very fucking selfish disease, and it can force someone with a lot to offer to keep it to themselves. I don't want to be like that anymore.

3. Fix my sleeping patterns.
There's no way going to bed at 5AM is good for you. It's been fun, but let's face it; there's just something grotesque and inelegant in consistently taking on the sleeping patterns of a monster.

4. Go to more parties.
Yeah I know, this doesn't coincide with number 3 at all. But...it goes hand in hand with number 2. Plus: beer is fucking fun as shit.

5. Be reclusive.
This one is also highly paradoxical, but this is another one of the theories I have; loneliness is healthy. The past week I've gone to see two movies by myself. It's good to not be around other people sometimes. You can let your mind roam free like Simba. Honestly, a lot of the times I go to the theater and I'm really excited about a particular movie, but I have to go with someone that isn't as thrilled. It's just not fun when the person you're with hasn't been anticipating the upcoming film for a year and a half. I'm a big movie faggot, but whatever.

6. Write more.
This is a given. I love writing, and I'm lazy as fuck.

First week of August: effin done.

I have a peanut allergy, as most of you probably know already. Inconsiderate people really bother me, but for the most part I'm fine. I think I remember waking up and hearing on the radio that some peanut allergies develop if the person has peanut/peanut butter before they're three. So if any parents read this blog: don't take a chance. Or do whatever. I don't care. A peanut allergy is kind of a good thing. Some people I know see it as a terrible thing. Some of them make it seem like if you can't have peanut butter you're lacking some type of special ability. "You can't have peanut butter!? That's like hell on earth!!" In addition to that people always make that dumb fucking "Kryptonite" joke. I see my allergy as a good way to stay away from junk food. If I ate peanut butter I'd probably be really fucking fat.

I think society's peanut allergy treatment needs to be upgraded. Why are candy companies allowed to put "May Contain Peanuts" on their packaging, for an example? How is that even allowed? You can't do that for any other product, so why should you be allowed to do it for candy? Imagine buying a book that says "May contain a pop-up boxing glove that punches you in the motherfucking face". That would never happen. The warning label should say: "May contain DEATH". That's essentially what they're saying to me.

Like I said before: I'm a big Abe Lincoln fan. I've recently become one. Soon, I'm going to be visiting the Lincoln Memorial, and all that other Washington bullshit. It's gonna be fun; I'll get to see the White House. I like doing new shit because it makes me feel cultured and whatnot. It's one thing to know you have the ability to go somewhere, but to actually do it is another. It's like eating chopsticks when you have a fork: you do that shit because you can. Do you wanna be the dickhead that reads about people that use chopsticks? Or do you want to try using them for yourself?

One thing I'm gonna enjoy on my way to the U.S. is at this restaurant. It's this little invention called "L.A. Cinnamon Bread". It's probably the best fucking junk food thing I've ever eaten. These days I try not to eat a lot of shitty food, because it doesn't allow me to complain about my health later on. However, when I do eat junk food, I tend to fucking go all-in. I've always thought, for an example, that it's stupid to get a Diet Coke when you could just get a normal one and suffer the same consequences. Seriously, Diet Coke has aspartame; a shitty idea that's responsible for a slew of illnesses. Not to mention; aspartame tastes like shit. It tastes like somebody put five cigarettes out in my coke. I got pretty off-track with that coke analogy. Anyway: L.A. Cinnamon Bread. That was what I was trying to get to. It's the best thing I've ever eaten in my life. It's basically bread that comes with icing/jizz/sauce in a tub you can dip it into. OR: you can order it with the sauce all over the bread. Either way, you'll want to just die while you're eating them, so you can die while you're at the peak of your happiness.

I saw "Whatever Works" yesterday. It really wasn't that bad. I heard a slew of negative things about it, but it was pretty good. Woody Allen makes movies that I want to watch over and over, but then there's the odd movie where I'm so fucking bored I question if Woody Allen did that on purpose just to fuck with me. Think about that. Woody Allen is so successful that he could seriously do that if he wanted to fuck with an entire audience of people. That's what I call fucking LIFE.

I've been thinking about time again recently. It's just fucked how crazy time is. Time is always relevant: that's how fucking awesome it is. People on earth will always stop from time to time just to talk about "time". How many times have you already said to a friend "Dude, time is so fucked up....."? After graduating from my last year of high school, I'm gonna have to go to post-secondary, where I'll have to start learning how to be good at my future career, which I haven't decided on yet. I fucking hate being decisive. This is the last summer where I have a grade of high school after it. Next summer it's gonna be all older-dude shit.

I'll hopefully update this blog quite a bit this month. Making a thought permanent in writing is a great hobby.