The life of a gemini can be very trying indeed. Things can get extremely bi-polar, and I’m talking external forces here. My sister once got some book, The Big Book of Birthdays or some jazz, and it had some sort of tarot card associated with every day on the calendar. The next time I was sneaking around her room, I took the time to look up my favorite day of the year, June 10th. Lo and behold, my day is linked to the wheel of fortune card and it basically tells me that things in my life will ping-pong between very good and very bad, at a pretty brisk pace and that if I don’t learn to deal with it then I am in some trouble. Up to this point it hasn’t been far off.

Since I have been out of touch after moving and not having home internet access since November and much has happened, let us just take a journey in reverse chronological order.

Now: Trying to move closer to my job, no one to live with, guilt of living for free driving me mental.

Jan-Nov: Work Work Work. Got to see Anna more, banked $$$, many possible living situations discussed.

Holidays: Mondo stress fest of having zero cash, zero presents to give and talking to Dad for the first time after dropping out. Lonely.

December: In a daze, don’t know what to think, life feels surreal. Thrown into a busy kitchen during mad holiday season almost broke me, most kitchen people talk of such occurences the first time you deal with restraunt insanity.

Late November: Show up late to an early presentation at school, decide then and there I can’t take anymore of this bullshit. Jumping through flaming hoops for a proffesion and the intense pressure and stress I would put on myself finally became too much and I just fell apart and knew I was through. It was a descision comparable to when I had to break up with Steph, the damn thing was killing me but I was too stubborn and ashamed to admit defeat. So anyways I book it off campus by 9:30am vowing to (succesfully) never return. By 4:00pm I was at a working interview at the same kitchen one of my best friends works at, and now I am the primo dishwasher guy save for when I am dehydrated at the end of the night at get randomly pissed and start throwing ladels.

Early-Mid November: Anna is finally released from the hospital after 2 months of hell. They are pretty sure the bacteria is gone, but her heart valve will always be somewhat damaged. Thankfully we made it through the whole ugly ordeal sans surgery.

Late October: Finally lose it and flip on Anna’s mom for being the hugest cunt ever, we almost have a fist fight in her hospital room. A very large eastern european, she had the weight but I had the reach. This was the first time I told Anna I loved her, crying as I left her room before her mom came back with security. I meant it.
Early October: My slumlord tries to kick me out for “breaking” the front door lock (it was totally broken, I tried to fix it, but of course he had no idea anything was wrong) and also tries to tell me I agreed that I would only have my girlfriend over on weekends, and not overnight, which is completely unenforceable as well as a dirty lie. I never do find a place to live and I guess you can refer to my last post for more details on that one.

Mid September: Anna’s “mono” takes a turn for the worse and is taken to the hospital where the doctors are baffled for about a week until they come up with Bacterial Endocarditis, a condition where a bacterial lump is growing inside her heart. In her case it was resting on the tricuspid valve on the right side.

Early September: Move into shithole after getting screwed by buddies, start school nervous as fuck knowing at the back of my head that I was letting the monkey climb on my back. The back of my head is always right. Why didn’t evolution put the back in the front?

Now I can assure you there were many good times to balance out at least some of the chaos, but unfortunately those type of things tend not to sit so close to the surface of your memories. No one would really notice if you moisturized your skin occasionally for the past 5 years, but you know damn well that you can spot that horrible past burn victim from clear across the Blockbuster. Same kinda deal. The wheel of fortune. A game of helium balloons and lead weights, my spirit the payload. You tell me which one lasts longer and is more poisonous.

I’m a believer in ADD, it is real and can be extremely dehabilitating.  I’m on ritalin right now, taking a break from math.  I might write a longer piece on the subject in the future with expanded arguments based on the rough notes below.

 -ADD is not a new invention.  Not invented by some sort of apologist or political group offering exuses for incompetence.  It is the advent of inventions and proccesses that have required much of society to be streamlined in order to succeed.  “Why can’t jonny sit down and do his math homework?  What’s wrong with him?”

Well I suggest that most Jonny’s, even a hundred years ago weren’t required to sit down and do anything for two hours.  If jonny was ever in school, he’s not anymore and he’s plowing the fall harvest.  If Jonny had neureponephrine levels below the societal average (essentially ADD), It went unnoticed as plowing might suck, but it doesn’t require the focus that study does. 

Jonny returned the plow to the barn and his ADD resulted in his leaving the barn door open-  To which Jonny’s Dad responded with “Jonny, what are we going to do with you?”

But it’s ok for jonny to forget to leave the door open, or toilet seat down.  He’s a hard worker and his anecdotes stemming from his then unknown ADD are welcomed by a small farming community devoid of excitment.  Jonny fits in.

Basically, creatures adapt, but unfornunately dreadfully slow in relation to the exponential technological advancements of the past hundred years.  Everyone can hunt and gather.  Adam, my brother, with ADD, would have fit in so well with all the hunter gatherers of a few thousand years ago-  I know because Adam caught rattle snakes at a pre-pubucent age with not much in the way of advanced technology.  But Adam is 29 now, trying to get through chemistry.  And yes, he needs drugs to help him. 

You hear it all the time “Well, you need a degree.  You can’t do anything without a degree.”  Well, actually, you don’t need a degree.  You don’t really need anything but hamburgers and maybe a little affection from whatever you’re atracted to to survive.  If we “need” an education, if we “need” to learn to divide polynomials.  Yeah, that’s right, we can’t do anything unless we learn to divide polynomials.  If we don’t, we fail math, and if we fail math, we don’t get our degree, and if we don’t get our degree, well then, what happens?  What happens?  Certain death!!!  No, not really, maybe we just won’t have as much expensive shit as those who chose to acheive. 

If we need an education, then we need drugs.  So, to those who say we’re drugging our children, or society, and that it’s a cop-out, I say pipe down.

As the mighty US of A have their mind set on the 2008 elections, scheduled to be held in a year from now, I think it is the right time to look back at the George W. Bush administration of almost 8 years reign over the United States and don’t fool ourselves much of North America and the so called civilized world, and ask ourselves what the fuck Jim?

Just what the fuck happened? How did we get fooled like that? Are we that dumb? Mesmerized by iPhones and SUVs, injecting American Express to the veins, brainwashed daily on the evening news with just the right amount of fear and paranoia. We lay disunited in a post 9/11 police state, controlled, counted, weighted, exploited and pacified by a whore like consumer economy that break us down to mere market segments based on our purchase power and psycho profiles. Are we just obedient little sheep smiling in bliss, sexually aroused as we get milked dry to masturbate, stimulate and keep erected out gross national product?

Of course not, that would merely be the dystopian vision from a twisted left wing fuckhead. Because this world is still beautiful and free. As the sun set on the immaculate green grass of the American dream George W. Bush keep reminding the world that everything is well and fine. That he loves democracy, his country, his people and the word nucular. Could be worst guess. Like having to draw your own conclusion of the past seven years in the Bush.

The very last of the FUTA cartoons, reloaded here for posterity and ego boosting. Definitly not the funniest FUTA cartoon but it is the only one using the updated graphics.

FUTA was to Reaction Quake 3 what the Sex Pistols were to the Rock’n Roll industry a bunch of terrorizing pirates and swindlers made of Solse, Golgo 13, Load3r, Uberbr00m and your humble host NoSympathy. We spend days procrastinating on some Enter The Game IRC channels and forged bizzare friendships that still last to this day.

Life can really suck. Bad. Almost lost my mind.
And so I am here, to see my account etched into a random server harddrive somewhere on earth.

The long and short of it is that I have moved back to my hometown after spending 6 months living in the heart of Toronto. I had been living in a shit place for the past two months, a single room with shared kitchen/bathroom, and basically agreed to leave by the end of October. The Land(slum)lord THOUGHT he was kicking me out, but he has no idea about Tenant Law.

A touch of luck has fallen on me though, in this trying time. Due to a lack of human space at my madre’s place, I have been put up in the mainfloor of a semi-detached. 3 Bedrooms to myself! I probably would have just lost my mind had this not happened.

So fear not Gwar! I am also in the not-quite-optimal-but-could-be-worse situation.

Hopefully, in the coming days, I will torment you all with reviews of terrible movies I have been forced to watch or video games I have dropped precious money on. Followed by ranting, poems about pigeons, pictures of dead pigeons, reports of unusual bowel movements, recipes, and maybe even some video aggregation.

Oh and so that this post isn’t completely useless, I leave you with 4 things I will/won’t miss about the city.

I will miss: taking cell phone pictures of dead pigeons, falafel everywhere, cheaper smokes, and living close to my girlfriend.

I WONT miss: the sheer density of dipshits and morons around me, excessively smelly street people (I can only tolerate so much!), living in crackville, being far away from almost all my buddies.

The End

Hey, this is Gwar and I think we’re gonna get things going again around here. I’m not going to spend too much time talking tonight, but I needed to put this stake in the ground.

I really appreciate Solse and Nosy, they help me with computers. Nosy has cool pictures of himself and he’s from Canada. Solse in 35% gay, but that’s OK.

So I’m Gwar. I moved home from Seattle 11 months ago. The plan was to move out of the moms house within three months. I just moved into my Girlfriend’s parents’ rental home two days ago- that makes… about 11 months at mom’s. I turned 25 during that timespan.

Don’t be mistaken, my current situation is NOT the only situation I can think of more pathetic than the deplorable (and of course my own until two days ago) living-with-your-parents scenario.

The scenario I speak of is of course the old living-in-your-girlfriend’s-parents’-house scenario. So lest you incorrectly assume I’m in that situation, I’m clarifying; Amy’s parents live down the street. I get a discount in their rental home because I posted ads on craigslist and things.

So not exactly owning and living in Hearst Castle, but more dignified than some.

I await your comments about other degrading living arrangements. Perhaps some canadiens have something to offer.

Fishing stars on the edge of the galaxy, legs balancing in the lightless void, staring at the multicoloured sea of cloudy Nebula. Far away silky Giants chasing each others, teasing and embracing. A perpetual race without finish line, no one will ever live to see the smile on the winner’s face or wipe the tears from the losers eyes. Ageless super clusters of water coloured cotton candy inhabited by thousands billions thoughts and dreams spiralling, sewn together as one unique canvas. One voice echoing into infinity as a tapestry of wonders.

I stopped and listened to the murmurs for what seemed like millions of years. A vibrant but delicate broadcast of desires. Hope created by life itself for its own pleasure and pain. The very fabric of life was resonating around me as a perfect picture of its tragic beauty. So fragile, clueless and finite but so powerful in the end. Life and death, symbiosis of space and time still devoid of any meaning and logic. I pondered the seeds essence like a hopeless alchemist searching the philosopher’s stone in Descartes pocket. What the fuck am I doing here? The mind fooled itself in speculative daydreaming. As a phosphorous spaceship passed by I casted my interstellar bamboo pole in the multi-verse and slipped. Cut my wrist on sharp coral, the blood ran free as the carbonate shell ripped deep through the delicate flesh. No gravity.

A gentle sensation of sedation slowly took over my mind, insidious, vaporous infiltrator I could not fight. Gracious femme fatale passing through the nonchalant crowd, looking deep into my eyes, blowing a kiss in stop motion, blowing my soul in the abyss. l felt Ariadne’s thread slipping from my hand. Slipping away in the darkness, I screamed without a sound, I screamed but heard nothing. No noise. Petrified, nailed with the fear of realization hitting me like an asteroid. When there is no reflection, no ripples and no lights are we still real? Do we exist in solitude?

Left shivering in the galactic cold the eyes felt numb and heavy. A shooting star slowed down as some of my blood got sucked into a black hole. I felt tremors from beyond, laying in the dark. My heart beat became indistinct, slowly vanishing. I closed my eyes. Somewhere on the fringe of the universe, I could tell the Big Crunch was happening.

Misty morning came as an aggression, a sad bastard with a beard wearing an dense gray hat, ice dagger in hand. The deceiver as come. Knocking, hammering my oniric refuge, smashing it down to dust, stabbing repeatedly like a madman. Motherfucker. Clockwork city was immobile, vessels of flesh and metal stuck in it’s concrete veins, somewhere in the steel jungle a gear must have broke, gone insane. Insanity is common occurrence when you live in a Tarantula.

I looked around, slow motion on black and white television projected in the infinity of time and space. Repeater. Echoing endlessly from the far end of the universe. An unshaved old man in the rear mirror. Timeless prophet passing by riding a tricycle with leather wings, clamming impending doom. A living scripture from the Apocalypse - The End of the World is near. Calamities are upon us, don’t you bloody bastards see anything? No one was listening, no one was paying attention. No one ever wonder anymore in Clockwork city, the Spider does not allow such subversive things as questioning the established order. Why are you preaching in the desert old man? What is your purpose? Screaming at a wall aren’t you? Desert city, devoid of soul on this bleak day, we are all fools my friend.

My mind started to drift. I got scared. I wanted to run, go for the warmth, shelter myself in a orange box with red wine and cigarettes. Wait for the sun to come back to Memphis… Eat the kingdom and chase the Tarantula. Old man, what if you were just wrong? But he did not wait for me to ask, he was gone already. A child has replaced him, small yellow silhouette dancing in the rain. Fragile girl with rubber boots and a strawberry smile. Her eyes were bright, of the stargazer type, radiating the seven wonders of the world. She looked at me, blinded me for a second. Stun, completely annihilated, disarmed and naked. My skin was peeling from the nuclear blast. Old man, what if you were just fucking wrong? Old man the wild child thinks you are just fucking wrong.

Dark laboratory, hidden in the basement, soiled needles, wrong experiement, mutants and Outer Space. Doc Terror will seize, create, destroy, create, destroy. Terrorize. Terrorized humans await in the basement.

I was out of inspiration for 7 months. The corporate beasts, purvoyers of death, preachers of misery and vampires of the world will be brought down or if not we must die.

Infamous Sony new gaming console the Playstation 3 went on sale yesterday at exactly 00H Hour Zero-One and retarded brain damaged gamers camped out in front of retailers in hope to fell like a virgin again… or not, after all maybe most of them still are. But fuck it anyways I meant digitally virginized for the first time, or raped for a couple of hundred bucks but who cares, it is just a matter of opinion I guess, we live in a world of exuberant individual consumerism so who will notice that you spent 600$ (about 2 months of groceries for the average family of 3.5 members) on some stupid plastic junk.

All the fan boys will tell you that blah blah blah it is the greatest system of all time and that it is worth 600$ all we got for them as an answer is go fuck a goat and Smash My Ps3 Dot Fucking Com. (Fucking was added for dramatic effect only). Because yeah in case you were wondering the Ps3 already been terrorized by the same guy that brought you smash my Xbox/Xbox360/Ipod/Mom/Donald Pleasance and other mental deviations.

Eat it here.

[16:29:52] [Robboy]: asahole
[16:30:17] [Robboy]: Monk something on your mind?
[16:30:50] [Monk]: You know the other channels right?
[16:31:02] [Monk]: You totally know you get more info idling there than here!
[16:31:12] [Monk]: Like answers to questions and stuff.
[16:45:47] [Robboy]: yep

This blog could definitely use some updates, unfortunately I am really with that never ending grind called work, and the more generic infection they say goes by the name of ‘real-life’. I am just going to post real quick the logo I did for my World of Warcraft guild, a Photoshop contest which could give you virtual gold. I ended up winning the contest. I was pretty happy the way it turned, it could use some more tweaking but in the end I think the effect was great. Anyways here it is.