Tag Archives: cool story bro

Dress sexy at my funeral

I want everyone to miss me when i die

I want all the girls to dress inappropriately sexy at my funeral

And throw themseleves over my coffin, clawing at the box

Wouldn’t really work if i’m in an urn

I sometimes think about who would be most hurt, who would cry, and be sad, who would cry but feel fine afterwards

When heidi died dan was already over her, they’d broken up two years ago.

When an ex dies, it must just feel like the past is over, and like the past is a foriegn country and all that, you move on.

I want to die just so i dont have to write shitty poetry to keep on living


I dont know what frightens me more, the thought that i have no control over my life or the thought that i have total control and this is how its worked out.

Obviously it works on a sort of continuum. But i often get the feeling that, even when its the things i say or do which land me where i end up, im just completely not in control of the outcome. I have no agency at all except to hurry or maybe delay the inevitable. Its totally fucked. And i know i have agency. I know i have control but its very limited and i never realise that i’d reached a crossroad until im halfway down the wrong path.

I never realise that im happy until its well and truly over. I never realise these things. I feel like im blindfolded. Such a shit metaphor but still.

Like i said before, i’m fully aware that i am the only one that can save me, but still it would be nice if someone else would save me. Help.

Just another saturday where i wake up and think, what the fuck am i doing?? X


An epic realisation i had while on acid and thinking about life and shit

Ok, actually worked it out. Sweet.

We are all in a box. We live, study, work in the box and unless we do something about it, we die in the box.

The box is surrounded by shit. The only way out of the box is to eat shit.

If you can eat shit, you’re fine. Sweet! You get out. You get the whatever is outside the box.

But you’re still a shiteater.

So everything i’ve ever learnt, has been telling me how to eat shit.


Falling in love for no reason/ lows = highs/ kiss you

When i’m happy i could fall in love with anyone. I fall in love with everyone i meet, i love everything.

When im sad i fall in love with everyone i meet, but i hate everything and myself and its destructive.

So dont come too close or i might hug you, dont speak to me or i might kiss you, dont grab my hand or i might not let go.

When i think back to the good times and also to the bad, right now, part of me, kamikaze and dreaming, is as nostalgic for the lows, as bright and vibrant and as destructively beautiful as they were, as it is for the highs.

I have this urge to kiss you when we make eye contact. I contact. When you listen to what i say i don’t have it. But when you talk and smile i look at your eyes and then at your lips and i think about kissing them. One day i will forget myself and do it and it will get really complex or really simple.


Jelly Knees

The thought of seeing you gives me jelly knees.

When i look at a picture of you i get cold sweats. You scare me. I’m terrified of running into you. I spend my time looking over my shoulder, worried you will be there, staring, disapprovingly, making fun of me, judging me. I will always come up short.

Im insecure and nervous and lost and i write really shit. The shit i write.

This is better though, because what did happiness and security ever do for writing? Nada.

Still, all things should be done with love or not at all. So, with the deepest love: fuck you, and fuck everything you stand for and fuck the fucking horse that you rode in on.

With the deepest love: i fucking hate you because you cannot truly hate something until you’ve loved it.

With the deepest love that i say i hate what you’re about and what you’ve done, and how you do it. i wish you would leave and never ever come back because i would be free.

I would delete you if i could. I would
erase our past if i could. I would turn my head inside out and upside down and shake myself by the ankles
Till all the memories and feelings and the rest of it all tumble out of my pockets and fall on to the floor and i will be empty and i will feel nothing.

Happiness and confidence is the death of worthwhile creativity. I just think of daniel johns and weep. I just think of success and weep. I just think and i could cry for hours. Fuck you.

When i’m happy i do nothing.

Better this way, no?

The thought of you seeing me in the clothes i used to wear scares me.

You will think, ‘he hasn’t changed at all.’


A new approach to being ignored: Loop pedals/ The inverse relationship between wanting it and getting it

Since no one reads this blog I feel I can post whatever is happening inside my head with confidence and without wondering if someone will read it. Except that my screen name is a dead give away. But still, I’ve seen my stats. I feel safe.

This blog is just going to be a dumping ground for my thoughts.

I generally write down my thoughts on my phone. If I want to send someone a msg but I know I shouldn’t I will just write it on my phone. If I write a to do list I will write it on my phone.

I generally believe that the to-do lists I write on my phone speak volumes more about my life than any shitty story I could write.

If you are still reading, (and I’m speaking mostly to future-raj, I’ve seen those site stats) here goes:

Last Friday I went with K to see a gig at the sly fox.

Everyone was average except for Matt Banham – K’s mate who used to be in No Through Road, but is now reinventing himself as some sort of pop singer – and this chick who used loop pedals and wailed into a mic while smashing randomly at her keyboard. She was really bad.

Yeah loop pedals are amazing. But sometimes, fuck you.

What can i say about bad use of the loop pedal that hasn’t already been said about chemical weapons? Sometimes you just wish we could uninvent them and shoot the users.

Like bike pedals, except you never get anywhere.

Like bike pedals, except you never get anywhere.

I feel like the relationship to how much i want to be someone’s friend and how much they want to be mine is inversely related. The more I want it the less they do. So i should just not want it? Do you only get the things you don’t want? That doesn’t sound right.

Tired of people telling me to be mean and play games.

Not sure what games or how to play said games.

Mind games.

I feel like I’m not smart enough to win my own mind games.

If I lose against myself then I really lose. Or does it mean I can never lose?

What the fuck am I talking about?

I’m well aware that the only one who can save me is myself but still it would be nice to if someone else could save me.

Wait so do I want a friend or do I want someone to save me? Save me from what?

My life is exhausting and ridiculously depressing.

No its not I have no idea why I would say that.

So I ask and it just means they like me less.

I have that effect on people.

That sounds sad maybe I’ll play with my hair till I feel attractive again.

Didn’t work or not enough playing. Unsure.

Number of friends I will have gained by writing this: 0