Skip to main content

Machinations Of An Exhausted Mind

Im laying here fruitlessly, an insomniac in search of a knockout punch. I can sense exhaustion encroaching on me, but whether through my own strength or its own perverted sense of humor, it wont overtake me. I long to close my eyes and have rest envelop me. I have no desire to dream. I do that enough during the day, and all of my energies are focused on the transmutation and actualization of those daylight reveries into reality. The zeal that forces me to pursue my passions with ardor and tirelessness also saps me of my energy by nightfall. While I will always believe that it is of way more practicality to work yourself to the bone in pursuit of your goals rather than simply exist in a hopeless state of purposelessness, sometimes you simply need to unplug and recharge. Today was one of those days of relaxation and reclamation.

 After giving so much of myself to the Navy, Ive been transferred to a post that has cut my working hours to a fraction of what they were. In a sadistic way, my new abundance of free time is sudden and overwhelming. I feel like a prisoner paroled straight from solitary confinement. At my favorite coffeeshop today, I watched the civilians flit and fritter about like ants in a colony, enmeshed with the urban landscape through a perpetual state of economically driven unrest. Oh what a joy it was to simply sit with a book, my mind full of unrealized ideas, eager to be birthed onto paper and release their energies to the world. My pen took on a life of its own, and as I began to inscribe in my notebook, the words flowed like water from an unobstructed spigot. Ever since endeavoring to pen 1000 words a day at a minimum, my communication, thoughts, and of course writing have improved substantially. Ive never been more lucid at arranging exactly what I desire to communicate, whether its on paper or the argumentative ammunition Im about to deploy in a debate. This regimen is akin to calisthenics for the mind. Indeed, just as doing 1000 pushups a day kickstarted my love affair with physical perfection and improvement, so has dictating 1000 words a day planted a seed of mental self improvement deep in my soul.

I find myself engaging in nearly systematic self analysis, attempting to locate the flaws in my character and eradicate them with incredibly extreme prejudice. The very act of writing refines your thinking and sharpens your thoughts. Your word choice becomes far more vibrant, your understanding of the framework of an argument or conversation rivaling that of an architects innate knowledge of the building he designed. The act of heeding your thoughts and the underlying intentions they harbor broadens the scope of your focus, harnessing it into a vengeful, deadly weapon. By fighting with the monsters that they can be if allowed to run rampant and unopposed, you discover their structure, weaknesses and Achilles heels. The biggest lesson Ive learned in life is to always control your thoughts. Your mindset defines you, determining your chances of success or the probability of your outcome being failure. This revelation is both empowering and crippling. When you realize that, barring lifes inconveniently placed tragedies, your success and failure is largely based on the strength of your mindset, or lack thereof, you begin to mature rapidly and conduct yourself a dignity and self respect uncommonly found in todays world.

We all live in a vacuum due to the inadequacy of a few. Everyone seeks to play the disgustingly reprehensible, cringe inducing role of victim. They seek sympathy for everything from imagined slights to a disagreement in opinion. It doesnt matter how amicable you think youre being, these androgynous harpies will always scream their repulsive heads off at some overly exaggerated form of disrespect youve supposedly inflicted on them. Propose any form of betterment or avenue of improving their situation and theyll glare and glance at you in a hilariously infantile manner. Allergic to hard work and contemptuous of those that project strength and pride, they latch onto the coattails of the self made, internally driven, and entrepreneurial, desiring to sabatoge them from within. Guard yourself fitfully and thoroughly against these indulgent creatures. Nothing is more bile inducing and deserving of revulsion then thkse who would refuse to work yet attempt to seize the lions share the bounty.

Seize your future by the throat and, using the power youve cultivated, honed and earned, force it to become what you envision in your minds eye. Our generation is infantile, corpulent and disgraceful because were comfortable. War is at our borders, and  the majority of our countrymen pay it no heed or mind. Our young men resemble prepubescent girls, clad in skinny, drainpipe jeans and sporting long, artificially colored hair. They tremble at touching or even talking to a girl, for fear of rejection. Our young women fair no better. Cursing haphazardly and indiscriminately, openly gloating about how many men have impailed them in a priapic fit of lust, seeking to prove their misplaced mettle as "one of thd guys" by imbibing enough alcohol it would make an Irishman blush.

 Our young men are pussies and our young women are vile and tasteless. Masculinity and femininity exist, but they are woefully miscast, adorning the wrong groups and individuals. If we were invaded by ISIS fighters tomorrow we could count on no one outside the military to raise arms and fight for our motherland. Fuck, if anything theyd attempt to understand the invaders and reason with them diplomatically. I vehemently believe that a good majority of them would defect, earning a well deserved death sentence in the process. Anyone reading this thinking that Im wrong, fuck you, its my blog and my thoughts. With the 2 main candidates for the highest office in the land a genocidal, racist idiot with no political experience and a known war criminal who escaped accusation and indictment because of her last name, genitalia and wealth, my hopes for the next 4 years arent high. Still, Im voting for Trump. Anyone reading this, if these words resonate with you, do the following things, regardless of gender. Work out, read books, and work hard to make your money. Thats it.

Popular posts from this blog

My Story Of Sexual Abuse

For J. Find peace.



The first time it happened was around the end of 1999. My Mom and my Aunt were busy prepping everything for the holidays, and my older cousin begged to babysit me. Looking back, though there was nothing that indicated what he would do to me, I now find it odd that he showed so much extra attention towards me. In the days prior, when all of the kids played whatever trivial games we dreamed up, he would go out of his way to ruin my fun. I remember one instance where we were playing Heads Up 7-Up or something similar, and though my head was down, he stopped the game and said that I was peeking at the other players, something banned by the rules. "No I didnt!", I protested. "Yeah you did, I seen you!", he'd reply mockingly. My two front teeth stuck out prominently due to a mix of bad genetics and awkward dental work, and I told one of my other cousins, in jest, that I'd gladly trade my teeth for hers. We laughed, until I heard him behind us.…

The Desert

The Desert



Dry air in a normally humid climate is not conducive to a strong immune system. The shock is sudden and violent on an unseen level, I'm sure.

I never thought I'd suffer from stifling congestion and repetitious fits of coughing while stationed in Hawaii, but I was proven wrong recently.

As I pen this, my throat, though healed and no longer reacting in an incendiary manner when forced to swallow, is as arid and barren as the Mojave.

My chest is harboring a veritable barricade of mucus, and each pill I pop, in hues of rose red, ocean blue and grass green, chip away at bricks of the stubborn, phlegmatic stowaways.

My nose is on the brink of suicide, and breathing in coats each gust of air with a Welcome Aboard package of sandpaper and gravel.

In short, I'm fucked.

Yesterday I spent half the evening limping around wincing, my side cramped by an invisible knife, present and piercing, jostling with each aching step.

Save for a few meandering sets and reps performed to…

Death Row

Death Row




I cant sleep/
Because these damn bleat-/
Ing fat sheep/
Harass me/
With thoughts of home everlasting/
They ask me/
If I'm doubting/
Whether I'll be happi-/
Er back there or out be-/
Ing the bad dream/
I've been to half the peop-/
Le I've known, just last week/
I slapped, beat/
Down three/
Annoying ass teens/
For laughing/
As I watched a movie slammed, beat/
After a savage week/
At work, I found these/
Hands swing-/
Ing grabbing/
Necks to gash and ring/
While attacking/
Panicking/
I stand, shriek/
And pass weak/
Guards, they cant catch me/
Tragedy/
Befalls actually/
Facts and brief/
Glass meet-/
Ings with a pastor week-/
Ly leaves me/
Seeking/
A deity/
To help free me/
But they keep me/
In this cage weeping/
Scheming/
To beat these/
Screws/
Loose/
Unleashing/
Rage when they leash me/
Up like a dog, deep things/
Run through my head underneath these/
Veins running varicose/
My demons seem/
To always be very close/
Air and smoke/
Are an errant joke/
The mirror p…