The Fidelity of Apprehension

It was the dog. The dog that meandered in the streets roving for any wayward morsel convinced him and imbued him with a fatalistic confidence. The rigid boy's stoic face remained unmoved at the sight of it, and yet behind it the inhibitions were disappearing, the incessant expectation of imminent tragedy, the anguish caused by trepid anticipation of anguish, dissipated into the stale night to be lost amongst the multitudes of disregarded screaming panics. 
Kyle's impressionable brown eyes languished in confusion from a youthful face, strafing back and forth, for the pretty girl with whom he'd had only a moment's contact. He wanted to be near her again, near her feet that ambled in varying motion, spontaneously bursting with a bounding run, facetiously stomping in tiny hops, or striding past the surroundings that were unremarkable in comparison to her, effusing individuality. To simply walk with her would be divine, to be instilled with her puerile passion, her ability to treat every breath as something invigorating and laugh the mortality that was ever present within him away. He felt that her subjects could ramble forever, her precocious mind would bring forth all the beauty and all the terrors and judge them equally with the same irreverent mockery that was inherent in her smile, her smile that she gave to nothing, everything, even him. 
With a recursive grimace at his ruminations of doom, how one so defined by an innate perfection in any situation as her could ever consider a pockmarked, bespectacled, stolid face with anything but contempt, how her benign physiognomy that so entranced him would let loathing manifest itself and contort into a bellicose glare, how he was quite simply not worthy of even her company, he walked with his head buried beneath his pity, until he saw the dog. 
The matted hair and gnarled teeth gnashed at the air threateningly, accompanied by a sound that may have once been fearsome. Glazed eyes rolled, whether in the fervor of panic or hatred Kyle could not discern, crowning an abused muzzle that uttered an imitation of what the dog had been long ago. The thing was pathetic, holistically contemptible, and Kyle would not tolerate such an abominable being. Its sight incited in him a strange emotion that augmented the restlessness his soul had felt at the instant of his infatuation, and combining his anger at his theoretical inabilities with the burgeoning feeling, he ran away in panic, soon to hear the howl over the clattering of his shoes pursue him with a tone of melancholy with which he was familiar. 
It was a cold night, and the dark, as always, confined one to loneliness. It was from this prison he then was empowered to abscond, slipping past negligent guards and impediments that had before seemed formidable but were now surpassed with ease. Kyle empathized. Could there be nothing more pitiable than that mutt? he wondered, while imagining himself in its place; the hungry, eschewed beast yet again surreptitiously fields the cityscape, applying a ferocity forced upon him by the exigencies of survival. His apprehension was nothing. If this girl rejected his offer to be an acquaintance, if the scenario his mind repetitiously imagined of her refusal even to disclose to him, what he believed would be, the sonorous melody of her voice was prophetic, his life would still remain intact, he would still be able to remain himself, not being transmogrified under the duress of the world's apathy. 
From the moment his altruistic tendencies emerged, incited by pity for someone beside himself, kneeling down with food in his hand, he resolved that by this action he was receiving the bone that the dog so languished for. The dog's eyes were as wet as its mouth, a slavering jaw that opened and closed, snapping shut only to gape involuntarily at the excitement of the sight of food, its gaze darting back and forth to assay the situation, incessantly suspicious of perfidy. Holding his palm towards the dog's muzzle magnanimously, Kyle insisted with a primeval gesticulation that the dog ingest this generous boon, his offer in recompense for imagining his similarity in misery. 
Eyes snapped, teeth closed, blood flowed.
The boy jumped back in pain, grasping his wound incredulously, injured not by the sanguine ivory in the dog's leaping mouth, but the destroyed apparition of a bond, the loss of the illusion of commiseration. Falling back onto the concrete, beyond the interests of any of the inhabitants of the neighborhood and departed from the simple mind of the ferocious canine, he spread his body to the extent of its length in the middle of the road, thinking before he fainted that now she will never accept me, or reciprocate my hopeless infatuation. She will never care about me. 

A Resurgence of Something.

This blog is something of an anachronism for me, as the majority of controversy, those volatile subjects which were completely irrelevant to me but to which I felt an innate abstract connection, has been usurped and that shallow friction between myself, my employers and my peers has been substituted. As for controversy's friends, they too have absconded from my mind due to the conditions under which it functions (suppression by neglect and draconian enforcement of the rule that one must not stand apart from the group), and as for discussing controversy with friends, those which I can make here are not interested in such things. There may come again into my life some day these lamented aspects of daily cognition, but for now I must deal with the vicariously tasked distractions which obscure them.
Or, instead of waiting for my intellect and opportunities to exercise it, I could take action and force myself to think with the sole impetus of willpower, as there is little immediate encouragement in this dreary place. I've always done things with prodding and pushing, and have frequently talked of how I can overcome my reliance on others' strength, but this idea of becoming an autodidact, of abandoning the bastion of doing what I'm told and acting on my own towards a goal that is uninfluenced by anything but my desire, is something to which I have become inured and am determined to bring to fruition.
The point is that I see this blog as an exercise, with potential to become an outlet for what little vestige of "smart" is still in my mind. As an ember may dissipate in a fury of flame with the catalyst of a gentle breeze, my mind may spark in an electric fury of neuron interaction incited by exposure to this blog, a potential gust. The potency is inherent in myself, but this is the edifice in which the corporation flourishes, the flask in which the potion is contained, the destiny awaiting the hero (not a self-aggrandizing statement. Imagine a personified destiny, a moment in time with sentience, that watches its fulfillment, ever imminent)
A lot of that probably sounded stupid, and were I to read it undoubtedly I would find it to be so, therefore I shall not edit this entry in any way... and am thereby excused from any judgment whichever passing viewer may deem justified by their fleeting observance.

I know you aren't reading this.

If there is an opinion of this meager attempt at sharing opinions and poor drawings with the internet that isn't apathetic, it has not yet made itself known to me, so I shall continue to issue self-referential posts acknowledging my abysmal lack of popularity (I've not tried to achieve it, anyway.) and the quality of these textual gems I post here, like my life, will continue to depreciate. Anyway, I have spent the past week trolling and contriving ridiculous situations on chatrooms, and the pride I feel from doing so compels me to share these instances of exhortative glory. Most of this was in the form of third person statements so much originality so far as syntax is concerned was lost.
Now, I know you are thinking (You? You actually are at my blog thingy? What is wrong with you? There are much more entertaining parts of the internet to peruse.) "To post their own stupid conversations, this person must be an extremely conceited idiot," and I can assure you that this allegation of douchebaggery is a truth supplemented by all these evidences I am providing. However, I ask that you read. Pretty Please. I don't know how you found this website, but there's no way anyone else will, so please make your singular experience complete.

[01:19] * +Lars stands up and says "Hello, my name is Lars, and I am a candy addict." Everyone applauds
[01:20] * +Lars proceeds to dig through the trash, startling the therapist and all of the other members of CA, and holds victoriously a third of a discarded snickers bar.
[01:21] <+Lars> I can't eat any more sugar, the doctor said it would kill me...
[01:21] <+Lars> But this peice of snickers I found in the trash... I can taste it, its fluffy chocolate wonder. You have to help me get over this addiction.
[01:22] <~`Chris> drink your own piss
[01:23] * +Lars wrestles momentarily with the therapist, losing his precious morsel, and facing the reality that he has a long road ahead of him, thinks that the day when he can resist candy will never come.
[01:24] * +Lars aims his thing properly, and after a bit of trial and error, successfully drinks his own piss.
[01:24] <+Lars> What a remedy.

That was amusing, right? Well, stay tuned in to see more of Lars and the rambunctious gang that hates his antics after this commercial break!
Buy our stuff.
Please don't leave.

[01:26] * +Lars shouts to everyone "DINOSAUR!!!"
[01:27] * +Lars runs with the panicking crowd, doing his best to reassure the most intimidated that they can outrun this beast, that its ferocity will not descend upon them if everyone just sticks together.
[01:28] * +Lars guides the herd of humans into the aquarium, where they are met by an inquisitive herd of turdles swimming in the briny, neglected pools of the display that once promised to bring hundreds and families and an unending source of revenue, but is now as derelict as the rest of the zoo.
[01:29] * +Lars says to the closest person in whom he can confide that he thought all of the dinosaurs were dead, that the national guard was going to make the pickup today in an hour. He compiles with the most keen of his colleagues an efficient route that will take them to the agreed rendezvous (however that's spelled), and the numerous difficulties they would have to take to avoid the slavering prehistoric beasts
[01:30] <~`Chris> ..
[01:30] * +ibanez` is searching for Lars + goatsex on yahoo. WEEE 770 hits!
[01:33] * +Lars watches the eyes of his beloved girlfriend look from his adoring face to something behind him, widening quickly with urgency. She is suddenly tossed up by horns that came from seemingly nowhere and chewed upon by one of the bloodthirsty triceratops that survived the mutations of the radioactive surge. Her incessant screaming as she was mangled and chewed, the triceratop's mastication taking at least ten minutes to kill her, would pervade and haunt Lars's mind for the rest of his life.
[01:33] <&Smurfie> eww..
[01:35] * +Lars cried into his pillow years later at the memory of her lugubrious eyes languishing for the time not yet had with him and staring fixedly at his shocked visage from her eviscerated, blood spattered, nearly dead body.
[01:36] <+ibanez`> annoying.
[01:36] <&Smurfie> Having fun, Lars?
[01:36] * +Lars then vowed to destroy all things related to dinosaurs, donned his mask, and became the museum wrecking vigilante, the JURASIKILLER.
[01:37] <+Lars> =]=] Yes... that was a good, cliché story.
[01:37] <+Lars> Maybe I'll imagine something less trite sometime
[01:39] <&Smurfie> Lol
[01:41] * +Lars, clearly contemplating an engaging consideration of momentary caprice, saw the face, flickering from behind the cover of the crowd, emerging for only a moment to be concealed again by the hundreds of faces that meant nothing to him. He hurried into the breach, shoving a path through the obstinate people that impeded him, only to find that it was gone, gone forever. The apparition of the visage of the one person he cared for in the world was gone, and he knew she'd be out of the city, and out of his life, in a day, never to return.
[01:42] * +Lars years later, again had the illusion of seeing this familiar phantasm. He chased it down, until for the first time in his life, he faced it individually, without the barrier of the rest of the world's population to prevent him from doing what he had longed to do for such a long time.
[01:42] * +Lars slowly pulled out...
[01:43] <+Lars> his gun! And shot her! Because he was a hitman!
[01:43] <+Lars> YEAH, I HAD YOU GOING
[01:44] * +Lars grimaced when he collected the cash, as he knew that the releif of this years-long pursuit was to be superceded by the agency's need of another modern supervillian's assassination.
[01:44] <+Lars> Hehe. I lied about not being trite, too
[01:44] * +Lars does a happy dance.

For the record, I have never done a happy dance, however this bit is so ridiculous that it makes me want to do one.

[10:45] * +Lars spends hours setting up his stage upon which he will perform a vaudevillian act, but by his scheduled showtime there is still much work to be done. Sweating and working vigorously, Lars tries to assure the large crowd that gathered, excited by his boastful posters placed all around the town, that is now gradually becoming apprehensive to stay and wait, for his performance will be of such quality that their socks shall spontaneously be taken from their feet and filled with rocks.
[10:45] * +Lars finishes the work and proceeds to rock everyone's socks off.
[10:46] <+Lars> Welcome! Ladies, Germs, Virulent diseases, infections and maladies of all kind, to the one and only Lars Norman Sock Rocking Demonstration of Arcane Magical Entertainment!
[10:47] <+Lars> Are you ready to be taken back in time to the medieval era and shown how the nobles employed Merlin when they were in need of amusement?
[10:47] <~`Chris> ?
[10:47] <~`Chris> wtf are you doing.
[10:47] <~`Chris> aren
[10:47] <~`Chris> t
[10:48] <~`Chris> \you the kid that leaves when the convo starts getting weird?
[10:48] <+Lars> Are you tenacious enough to withstand the pure jollification that emanates from the infamous battle between Merlin and Morgana, when they competed in a humor-duel to the death for the favor of King Arthur?
[10:48] <+Lars> If you meet these requisites of character and are not pregnant or disabled, you are eligible for the privilege of seeing my miraculous show!
[10:49] <~`Chris> you better not cry when the convoc in this room make you cry
[10:49] <~`Chris> -c
[10:49] <+Lars> But, however, if you lack the moxie, the mettle, the vim and vigor to witness these wonders and not break down crying with ludicrousness, then I suggest you leave.
[10:49] <+Lars> Tickets are non-refundable
[10:50] <+Lars> Lol
[10:50] <+Lars> Do you want to see my show, Chris? I gave it quite the introduction.
[10:50] <~`Chris> no.
[10:51] <+Lars> I guess you are weak of heart.
[10:51] <~`Chris> yes/
[10:52] <+Lars> This is most depressing. Well, you bought a ticket, and I'll just ask for my fifteen dollars now.
[10:53] <+Lars> Woe be me! I am overcome with melancholy! Have I lost my touch? Am I unable to inspire the awe of the crowd, or has the crowd simply lost touch with the curiosity that was always its heart?
[10:53] <+Lars> Seriously, Chris. You depress me.
[10:55] <~`Chris> why is that.
[10:55] <+Lars> You have the kidneys, the lungs, but you don't have the heart. You're lacking the most vital organ the crowd has ever had.
[10:55] <&Cynderella> o.o

How Fun! But even more fun is conceiving verbose tirades against idiots, masquerading as a Nazi!

Of all the things on the internet, its blatant disregard for language and the ubiquitous irreverence of the average person towards the purity of communication is most irksome.
Filled with ire, I crusade across the great cybernetic plains, through the virtual deserts, over the immense internet forests to spread the word of my religion: Grammar. Heiling my fuhrer, the penultimate paradigm of incessant grammatical flawlessness and prosody, I instill my beliefs in those who dare profane them at the point of a sword
Teddi. Convert, or be damned to eternal perdition, where teachers shall imbibe you with the definitions of lingual structure and expand your lexicon immensely, educating you while eviscerating you with their pitchforks

Of all things, the most amusing are encounters with idiots or those purporting a facade of idiocy.

[20:01] hi
[20:01] What?
[20:01] Why are you contacting me?
[20:02] just wanna chat with u? its my first time on dis?
[20:02] What characterics do you believe you possess that would be alluriing enough to entice me to chat with you?
[20:03] i'll send you some $
[20:03] For what in return?
[20:04] or its ur coice tell me
[20:04] What choice? You have presented me with no quandary, no decision upon which I may vacillate.
[20:04] what do u want i'll give u
[20:05] What information do you hope to obtain through these conspicuous solicitations?
[20:05] i'll send u money
[20:06] Clearly, the ability to comprehend the reciprocal side of a conversation is beyond you.
[20:06] Why would you send me money?
[20:06] okey
[20:07] One does not give money to another without expecting a benefit of equal value in return.
[20:07] What do you want from me?
[20:07] cuz u gonnna help me dis cuz its my first time and whatever u want to return to me its up to u?
[20:08] I do not want to give you anything.
[20:08] What help do you need?
[20:08] how to chat
[20:09] its my first time dats y
[20:09] how long u been chatting on dis
[20:10] Well, to change your nickname, you type /nick, to speak in the third person you type /me and the actions you will take. To get a list of the chatrooms, you type /list. On the list you will see a chatroom called #support that can help you with technicalities. To join a chatroom from the peercommons you simply type /j #whateverchatroomthisis
[20:13] ok
[20:14] what else
[20:14] ... /j #support
[20:14] Or you could ask me specific questions.
[20:15] like what give me an example
[20:16] I gave you all of the basic information that you need. I have been using this program for two months and have not needed to use commands less common than these... But I reputedly lack the precociousness to put myself in new situations, so again, ask #support and stop bothering me.
[20:17] okey
[20:17] hey
[20:17] whats ur name?
[20:17] My name is my name
[20:17] where u from?
[20:17] I am from where I am from
[20:18] i want to get to know u
[20:18] im 25 m california
[20:18] and u
[20:19] I am not homosexual, so what I'm assuming are the lascivious intentions behind your inane request for identification will not be fulfilled.
[20:19] I am 98, Male, Antarctica
[20:19] what r u
[20:19] Really?
[20:20] I just said I'm not gay, and you are still going to ask about my gender?
[20:20] Child, you are not the brightest one. In fact, I think dull would be an overstatemenbt
[20:20] ur a male
[20:20] * Lars applauds your powers of deduction
[20:20] how can u tell if its a male or a female
[20:21] Are you posing this question seriously?
[20:21] Let me explain this in a simple form of language that you can probably understand
[20:21] You said that you were male.
[20:22] I said I am not gay.
[20:22] To even consider being gay in relation to a male would automatically identify me as a male.
[20:22] I will no longer tolerate your stupidity. Piss off
[20:22] so ur a male right

I hope for the sake of the world that person was only pretending to be so asinine. Now here is some playful destruction. Please place your imagination hats on, or get them from your local moniker, to fully experience the effects of this next stupid thing.

[22:14] <~Ferrous> you can't fly
[22:14] Can too.
[22:14] * Lars sticks his tongue out
[22:14] * ~Ferrous shits on it
[22:15] * Lars swallows it, with a contented grin, and says that he's never had such a tasty meal
[22:16] <~Ferrous> glad your last was pleasant
[22:16] * ~Ferrous hits ominous red button
[22:16] * Lars then spits it out, as he thought that ferrous shat cocoa, and avoids the blast by ducking behind a dumpster while shouting "Ptewie, Ptewie!"
[22:17] * ~Ferrous laughs at silly antics as his garage door opens and he casually drives away to do something else
[22:18] * Lars chases Ferrous down on his motorcycle, firing his Mana Ray wildly
[22:18] * ~Ferrous stops suddenly, motorcycle hits car and stops, lars doesn't until a while later when he meets pavement
[22:19] * Lars fires his mana ray at the pavement, countering the deadly momentum from his speeding bike
[22:21] * Lars scores a direct hit with his Mana Ray on Ferrous, but he forgot that a Mana Ray increases its target's energy exponentially, and now faces a Ferrous that is not only devious and cunning, but disproportionately muscular.
[22:21] * Lars then shoots his mana ray at the backs of all of the pedestrians running away in terror, and employs them to fight this abhorrent beast
[22:22] * ~Ferrous tricks the IRS into auditing lars
[22:23] * Lars uses the freshly created BESTIAL WAYFARERS to swat the suited and bespectacled accountants aside.
[22:25] * Lars then sticks his knife into Ferrous's eye, finally gaining lethal recompense for the ruse of fecal cacao
[22:31] * Lars loses all his money while distracted with Ferrous's eye to one surreptitious IRS GEEK that used his combat skill STEALTH OF EMBEZZLEMENT to sneak past the BESTIAL WAYFARERS and the media crews awaiting word on the millions of dollars hidden in Cayman bank accounts, fabricating a metric ton of administrative red tape.

How great! If you have made it this far... You are probably deserving of as much pity as I am, but there is only one more situation that I would enjoy documenting. This one, specifically:

[15:03] hey
[15:03] <~Lars> Hello.
[15:03] whts up
[15:03] <.<
[15:03] * Guest_42643 is now known as Xombie
[15:03] <~Lars> Welcome to the golden hall of Chat, adorned with, as you can see, ancient sculptures and edifices of the intellect.
[15:03] <~Lars> Bask in the reflected glory of the luxurious, opulent golden light.
[15:04] <~Lars> We are the keepers of the Hana Sho Nang, the guardians of the holy relic.
[15:04] * Cynon (GatewayX@DE91335F.870586BF.CB0FD869.IP) has joined #ChatShack
[15:04] <~Lars> Welcome to our abode, our fortress
[15:04] <~Lars> What is your reaction, Trinity
[15:04] <~Lars> *tylerzz.
[15:04] <~Lars> Damn the tab system
[15:04] <~Lars> Get the maintenance guardians on this problem, will you Xombie?
[15:04] <~Xombie> <.<
[15:04] <~Xombie> Lol
[15:05] <~Xombie> To reduse tab fails
[15:05] <~Xombie> Type in the first 2 or three letters
[15:05] <~Xombie> Then tab it
[15:05] coco
[15:05] <~Ferrous> to reduce spelling errors, pay attention
[15:05] * Cynon (GatewayX@DE91335F.870586BF.CB0FD869.IP) has left #ChatShack (User Part)
[15:05] <~Lars> Now, currently you are in our outer hall, but for a price we will be happily obliged to allow you to observe the Hana Sho Nang's glory, tylerzzz
[15:07] <~Xombie> Lol
[15:07] <~Lars> That price, I might add, is your soul. See, the function of this spectacular device is to serve as a soul receptacle with the capacity to enslave one hundred lives. After you see the great and veritably laudable Hana Sho Nang, you will be deprived of aspirations, free thought, individuality, true happiness, and other such superficial amenities that life sometimes grants a person, as your body will be devoid of a soul, however you will enjoy the pleasure of living a mundane life and doing as you are told.
[15:08] <~Lars> Are you ready to make this genuinely beneficial and trivial sacrifice for a reward of greatness beyond comprehension?
[15:08] <~Lars> Tylerzzzz?
[15:10] <~Lars> Look at our Halls. They are gold. How can you refuse golden Halls of ancestral architecture, archaic auspices and audacious amours? I can assure you of the amours that have been practiced here as a tradition from the earliest primeval eras, which is a subject of much allure to many.
[15:11] <~Lars> Tylerzzzz, I demand your attention.
[15:12] <~Lars> You have come as a guest to the Golden Halls of the Guardians, and your taciturn demeanor is not appreciated. The acceptable response is an expression of awe at our venerable practices and opulent abodes.
[15:12] <~Lars> Am I the only one having fun with this?
[15:13] <~Xombie> Nope
[15:13] <~Xombie> I am reading
[15:13] <~Xombie> Lol
[15:13] <~Lars> I wish my victim... Er, I mean guest! was
[15:14] <~Lars> Now, peon, no I mean most welcome and revered guest, please come this way to the Hallowed Corridor of Corrosion, in which your soul will be seized, and from there follow me to the Anaxethalon, the Great Room of the Relic.
[15:15] * ~Lars puts his arm affably around tylerzzzz shoulders and subtlely coerces him into walking with him to his doom, er wait, I mean salvation.
[15:16] <~Lars> Come tylerzzzz, this is a most joyous day for you, and afterwards, though you will be deprived of all capability for happiness or glee, we shall have a jubilant reception to commemorate your completion of the initiation.
[15:17] <~Lars> Now, just sit here while the gas pours in from the walls
[15:17] <~Lars> Yes... I'll just go behind this glass wall here...
[15:17] * ~Lars presses a button and watches the green vapors exude from holes in the wall, laughing at the sight of tylerzzzz suffocating
[15:17] <~Lars> Oh my, you are dead! Oh, poor gullible fool.
[15:17] <~Lars> Goodbye
[15:17] * tylerzzzz was kicked by Lars (Lars)

Admittedly, little of that was the vicious trolling I thought it to be, mostly because the majority of crass boors that are audacious enough to enrage me do not understand that my tangential, highfalutin crap is an insult or because it was just fun to do, but I've enjoyed ranting incessantly. You didn't read any of that, did you?

Here's a fun drawing

The sexist travails of a person who doesn't know what they are talking about.

I hate women. I despise all the aesthetic houri of the world because, if I was not shielded by hatred, ensconced in the comfort of odium, I would collapse in a paralytic maneuver to my knees, mortified with adulation. Women are created to deceive, with a blindingly innate beauty that outshines all the flaws of character and intellect that I could easily identify in their male counterparts. What dislike I reserve for the involuntary libidinous thoughts that pass by as fleetingly as the satisfaction of lust that serves as their impetus is transferred to their kind, and with each female I see I can only draw my brows close together and ponder their destruction.
If my susceptible nature were not girded by a pia mater of disgust, the primeval, hereditary tendency to deify would strike me much as it does those who already have contact with their imaginary saviors, as I would be worshiping an illusory mirage that I have never had true contact with, just as those adherent to religion, and through my gullibility have my malleable will, if it could be called that, manipulated to serve whichever purpose a the self-serving, opportunist beauty would coax me into with an incessant string of physical cajolery.
I hate women because they are women and I am a man who wishes that my world was an asexual one so that I would not be encumbered by the unsteady whorls of visceral hormonal burdens.

An idiotically lengthy absence from a completely unpopuler and not in demand blog

I'm back! To all my readers, viewers, listeners, I want to apologize (haha, as if there are any of you bastards, and if there are you sure are unlucky to enjoy a blog that posts its entry's backwards((I mean, shouldn't it post the newest at the bottom so that new viewers can start from the beginning? No, nevermind, my logic is faulty(((parentheses inside parentheses, biatch)))))) and state that I will be posting the thoughts that drift through my worthless cranium and the fruition of my creativity monthly (hopefully), if that's all right with all of you nonexistent folk out there.
I have changed, and for the worse. My intellect has largely been drained into a void, filling it perhaps, but nonetheless lost forever. I will never be the awesomely creative and awesome nerd that I used to be, and though I am no longer awesome I retain my title of nerd/geek/dork. This is obvious and can be educed from my newly upbeat diction, such as the use of the word biatch, and lack of coherence. But do not lament for my melted brain! I will give this blog new songs, new drawings, some of my old poetry and some of my new! Fear not, loyal subjects (who would be loyal to a site that hasn't been updated in a year and has been viewed by no one but the author?), for I, the indefatigably genius, and momentarily self confident, Lars will supply you with all kind of goodies, ranging from opinions to obscene rap songs! Do not fret! I have not been at work for a year, but my vigor shall be restored and your happiness, or at least what I wish was someone's happiness, will come again!

I wish 'twere real

This is a song I made that unfortunately was only inspired by fantasy, not reality


Girl you are so fine
I wanna make you make you make you mine
But you said you don’t wanna get pregnant
So I’ll have to shut up and respect it
And I’ll pull out when I’m halfway done
And jerk the rest off just for fun
I I I I’m Comin’ on the Curtains
I’m comin’ on the curtains!
I’m five feet from the window
And I’m wonderin’ just how far I can go
When I look at your face, its so beautiful
I sprayed all over, it was terrible
I I I I’mTalkin’ to you
”Babe can you help me please?
You’re the only one that can make me scream”
So you come over willingly
And you help vigorously
Euphoria’s nothin’ when compared to you
And all the things you can make me do
But please don’t blame me for ruinin’ the curtains
After what you did to me I am hurtin’
I’d never done anything so hardcore
And I’d never shot five feet before
You’re the one who made me do it
So please baby don’t throw a fit’
Cause you made me ah ah ah ah
Come on the curtains, I’m comin’ on the curtains!
I’m I’m I’m I’m slowing down the beat
just how you were goin’ on my meat
Slow slow slow now fastah fastah fastah
and I’m Comin’ on the curtains
I’m comin on the curtains
I’m comin comin comin
I’m wonderin’ wonderin’ wonderin’
How I am going to explain this to the clerk at the store where I will return this
Ye, I may have frosted the curtains with white
But don’t worry it’ll be all right
We’ll just return ‘em at the store
Get a cash rebate or get some more
curtains curtains curtains
IIIIIIIII’mComin on the curtains!