||[Sep. 21st, 2005|01:37 am]
|||||at all cost||]|
I've realized a lot of things in life can be related to drugs. Like internet addiction for example. It doesn't take a drug addict to realize that once you start using something you build a tolerance, and pretty soon you need something harder and stronger to get you high. Well, like I said before, this also applies to the intraweb. Chat rooms started the whole process for me. AOL, Napster chat, ICQ, and eventually it topped out at Yahoo! Chat where I wasted a good two years of my life. I like to think of this as like marijuana. You start using it, it feels good, and before you know it you're getting turned on to harder things. Like Cocaine, or Live Journal. Live Journal ushered in a new phase of internet addiction. I'd come home from school and post all these stupid emo stories about God knows what, and before I knew it, it was all downhill from there. New Found Glory style. I'd update all the fucking time, I'd check my friends page every waking moment. Internet addiction was in full effect. But then I found something that was harder, better, stronger, faster, something that if you were without for more then ten minutes you'd break out in a cold sweat. Malaise, anxiety, depression, chills, nausea, diarrhea, cramps, and fevers would also kick in. Yeah, you guessed, it - Heroin. Er, Myspace. Myspace: The heroin of internet addiction. Once I discovered Myspace it was all over. I'm still trying to piece my life back together. And it's not easy. I recently found the Methadone of internet addiction - Multiply, the networking site that's a cross between facebook and photobucket. But I seriously doubt that's going to break my Myspace addiction. And isn't Methadone addicting in itself? Uh oh. So, yeah, that's the reason I never update anymore. Heroinspace.com has consumed my life.
Anyway, I'm not too sure how I feel about life these days. Life was awesome on the road. Unfortunately, due to stupid fucking niggers fucking us out of money, that tour was cut dramatically short. Although financially it was a disaster, there was no greater feeling than spending days upon days traveling. Almost dying TWICE thanks to that fucking bitch Katrina, waking up in strange hotel rooms, living off booze and fast food. Trying to decipher the anomaly that is the time zone system. Suddenly all those songs like "Wherever I May Roam" and "Home Sweet Home" made sense. And Florida? Florida was fucking amazing. Well, Tampa Bay was fucking amazing. Cities like Pensacola where everybody and their fucking mother called us faggots. Panama City which was like the San Marcos of Florida. Yeah, what A WASTE OF SPACE. Such a disgusting city. There were other cities too that were nice, but they really don't deserve a mention. Tampa, though. Was something else. Everything there was like Greek to me: Black stoplights? Palm Trees? Steak and Shakes? Crazy looking buses? Hot girls? What? Texas has like none of these. I had never been there before and it definitely made one hell of a first impression. I still believe Texas is the best place in the fucking world, but fuck dude, it has some serious competition.
I really miss palm trees. :(
The drive home was a whole other adventure. We ran out of gas in Alabama and had to wait at a fucking gas station in the sweltering heat for six fucking hours only to discover that no gas was on the way. Somehow we managed to make it back to Florida where we gassed the fuck up. Oh, and stocked up on Mello-Yello and sausage. Yeah, despite the traveling sausage fest that was our van, we kept craving slim jims. It was queer. Anyway, it was pretty difficult driving through Alabama and Mississippi, seeing buildings demolished, cars demolished, people demolished. I had a lot to think about during those hours. I thanked God for not placing San Antonio on a coast of any kind. I also thanked God for Vicodin which knocked me out lest I had to watch anymore of that heartbreaking destruction. Louisiana was scary, and I definitely do not want to elaborate on that.
Anyway, let's see. What else? Oh, yeah, I have a fracture in my left ring finger. I swear, every time I play drums I always find some new way of hurting myself. You have no idea how painful typing this entry is. The only saving grace is that it's on my left hand. Without my right hand fully operational I would die. Seriously. Death.
Throughout drugs and myspace and florida and fractures I managed to somehow land myself in a relationship. Well, not an official relationship. Well, it's complicated. But I think it's safe to say my days of slutting it up are over. Yeah, heartbreaking, I know. I really don't know how this could have happened. I'm such a bad person; how could anyone like me? Much less, how could I like anyone? Yeah, I know I always manage to develop these little crushes on strippers here and there. The most recent back in Clearwater, where I managed to fall in love with a stripper I had known for about a whole hour. Hell, I think I still might have a crush on her. After all I did let her keep my fucking To Die For hat which I miss oh-so-deeply. But anyway, yeah, strippers are of a different breed. As much as I love them, I know I could never get serious with any of them. These real, non-stripper girls are waaaaaaaay different, though. I mean, what do I do? I haven't held strong feelings for anyone in years. In fact, I've haven't held feelings like this for anyone ever. Which could be cool, I guess. I'm sure it's nice to have sex with someone you really care about. As opposed to girls you downright loathe. Whatever. I have no idea where I'm even going with this. Fuck girls. All I need is alcohol and my right fucking hand, and At All Cost.
And speaking of At All Cost, everyone seriously needs to go to the show on Thursday.