Canada has the least amount of medals out of every country in the olympics. Zero is a wonderful number.

11th best at everything, what a good place

I went to the shooting range yesterday; here are some more things I learned about myself.

I'm a great shot, especially with a rifle. This will help when I'm trying to write the great American novel, I'd imagine. I could even shoot myself afterwards with moderate success!

I'm way too old to be thinking semantics in friendships. Ex: Me talking about Teresa in a pejorative in yesterday's entry. SURE IT'S ALL TRUE GOD IT'S HARD TO STAY MOTIVATED WITHOUT SOMEONE DREAMY IN YOUR EYE, and SURe SELF MOTIVATION IS ALL YOU NEEED! but;
yeah, it all sounds stupid since I'm all grown up now. I'm supposed to be writing about donuts and sex I think, and I'll keep writing about sex since that's how I keep readers interested, and it's the easiest subject to write about

::
i'm constantly changing, like a chameleon. i've realized that different people have loved me for different reasons, and it's been entirely because i've been multiple people on occasion. the question "god you're not being yourself" applies to me entirely. i know this because one time a girl said it on a date and then she shot me in the foot and i said i was sort of into that type of thing (EVEN THOUGH MY OWN MOTHER SAID NEVER TO GET SHOT, EVER!) and she immediately dumped me because i wasn't what she was looking for.

"i need a man with SOLE power" - kimmy taylor

"that is probably the fucking stupidest joke you've ever told, at least be more sarcastic " - fanz

"WHERE THE FUCK ARE OUR ROYALTIES" - of montreal
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i listen to notorious big a lot. i feel that he's more applicable to life than a trombone

A few things I have learned about myself while I've been taking the summer off:

I'm like a small animal when it comes to confrontation; I avoid it at all costs, and if somebody around me starts raging around I'll curl up and hide in a corner. This is different than purely being a pussy, mind you, I'd say it's closer to being a complete and total (apathetic) polar bear. (the hibernation part is accurate as well)

I'm still awful with verbs and adjectives; my life communication problem probably stems from this. I've tried reading the dictionary, I've tried reading my Uncle Oswald, I've tried reading the moles on every girl's neck I've been with. You know what they all said to me? "You suck at using adjectives."

I'm completely and totally unable to have sex with someone I'm not attracted to. This seems more obvious than it should, but let me remind you audience how often you are frequently fucking someone who repulses you more in the morning than a goddamn forty year old wearing your sister's underwear. (I tried thinking of something repulsive, that isn't really repulsive, just weird, something repulsive is like the genitalia of some porcupine stirred in your soup; once again, i'm mind fucking roald dahl [note to self: stop using words like mind fucking and fag, i'm too old for that]). So what was I saying? Right, the sex, I feel like a vegetable fucking a tire iron when I'm sleeping with someone I don't really like. And of course I fantasize about past women, about future women, who knows?

The worst thing to say to someone during (casual) sex is "I love you."
The thing you want to hear most from someone you like is "I want you to put your cock in me."
These two phrases are actually one in the same.


I, like every man, am obsessed with the satisfaction of my lady, and all future ladies at that. A man who leaves a woman unsatisfied might as well shoot his own legs and move to the clog making factory because he'd better get used to producing something that he himself can't use. ("What kind of person has a penis making factory, you dumbfuck?") I only think of this, because I hear stories of former boyfriends being unable to satisfy, being obsessed with satisfying, being somewhere in the middle, and all I can do is laugh because I'm thinking of nothing other than the sex itself. (and if I actually like the other person, what's in her heart, but that is serious and overly emotional [and stupid, if you're a person in college i hear], and nobody wants a love story, RIGHT}


To make money you have to be good at writing fucking love stories. I am decent at it and am probably willing to sell my soul if I don't figure out a better option.

Everyone smokes weed and everyone who smokes weed has partially fucked their life over somehow. I've lost my ability to go out dancing and run up large hills. This has translated into my ability to knock over ten bowling pins in an alley, and seven feet in a furlong.

I've become unable to communicate with people I don't have an impression with. I've become so entwined in my own self consciousness that stringing some words together makes no sense anymore.


I have been doing absolutely nothing for a year now, and it's starting to really worry me. I don't know if I'm a writer anymore. But I suppose these aren't things I've actually learned about myself. Here's one more of those:


I really really don't like Teresa.
Even as a supposed best friend.
I just like the support, you know, of a beautiful artist hanging around. I liked thinking of the future. The present always likes to kill me and punch me in the face.
(aka, those childhood romances that we obsess with never tend to work out the way you want them to) It felt like she fucking twisted me into a pretzel and toyed with me like crazy when I went to visit her last. It was the first time my soul actually hurt more after visiting someone, and it wasn't because I missed them. It was because I actually lost a piece I thought would forever be in tact. And it was so goddamn important to me. This probably isn't true, but it most likely is.



Here's another:
Now that Teresa is just filed under "perhaps a best friend" I feel like I've lost my complete audience in writing, and I've turned into a worthless banana slug who no longer thinks of the future but of the past. It's wrong to blame anything on a " LOVED ONE "
and i don't blame her, I blame myself for having no other fans.