Come On, You Fuck. . .

Update your blogs, you assholes.  I'm bored and drunk.  I need something to judge and/or comment about obcenely. 

Weeeeeeeeeeee

A Poem.

I wrote this a few weeks ago.  I've edited only once but I need to edit more before I add it to my portfolio.  Hope you enjoy!

Fading

By M. Cornell

These previously breathing-and-screaming corpses tossed about have gotten old.  They are everywhere. Unmoving and unliving.  A grisly, unending buffet for any scavenging creatures. 

Not sure if the rot-stink is still there or if I’m just so used to it. 

The puncture in my arm is infected.  It looks pretty bad.  Hurts like a mother.

I suppose I’ll have to deal with that soon.  Or soonish.

I haven’t seen a single person in so long.  Months, probably.  Definitely not years.  Not yet.

I wonder if Big Ben is still intact.  Doubtful.  

Ouch! Goddamn, I need to deal with this arm situation.  Can barely move the thing.  I’m bound to

find something useful deeper in town.  Find me some antibiotics.  Or a cold beer. 

Hell, I’d be happy with a half-smoked cigarette. 

I miss Rachel.  If she were still alive and with me, she’d be so pissed off for my stupidity. 

I can hear her scolding voice in my head, “Fell off an overpass and sliced open your arm? Who does That?  Oh.  Right.  Your dumb ass!”  I miss her rants, that glossy twinkle in her eyes when

she goes off

about something, anything.  Even if it was me.  

She died at the beginning.  She went quickly.  Painlessly.

The last people I saw alive lived in the woods. 

They tried to eat me. 

Frail and whimpering, they came at me like a wave.  A few of the punches I threw

probably killed some of them.  They were not human beings anymore.  Savage things.

They’re probably all dead by now and in a better place. 

Better than here.

Hollow winds matched with hollow gray skies.  Everyday and everywhere.  I’m starting to think that even the sun is dead.

I’m so tired.  So very tired.  Maybe I’ll just rest here in this garage for awhile.  Gather my strength.

Yes, for just a little while longer.  Get some shut eye.  My arm doesn’t hurt so bad now.  Might not have to go searching downtown.  I’ll see what happens after a short rest. 

Just a short rest.  Maybe I’ll dream of Rachel again.  Those give me comfort.  They remind me of better times.  When I had a place before the

World went to shit. 

When I had friends and family.

Back when I had a home. 

Rachel, I want to come home now.

I want to come home.

I Don't Like the Politics But the Politics Like Me

Imagine for a minute: You go to college because you've always felt a calling to education, to the young people of your community, your city, your state, your country, your world.  You wanted to have a helping hand molding young people's futures and to bring a positive and intellectually charged attitude into their lives.  To challenge them and engage them in their studies of their lives, the world, and everything.  You are a bright gleam of enlightenment, igniting the sparks of critical thinking and opening up the minds of the young to embrace culture, philosophy, politics, literature, mathematics, and the broad world around them.

Imagine trying to do all that while balancing two or maybe three jobs just to pay rent. 

Imagine trying to not get strung out on a daily basis.  Imagine guiding these young minds during the day and trying to stay on task despite the fact that you only get five hours of sleep a night.  Five hours of sleep, if you're lucky, because you have another full-time job after school.

Imagine staying calm and cool-headed when you are becoming more and more irritable.  Imagine the guilt after your outburst at a student who didn't deserve it.  Imagine the pressures of trying to balance a steady income when all of your benefits are stripped away and you have no one, not a single person, group, or entity that can represent your dream-come-true job turned Hell-On-Earth.   There is no negotiating.  No voice, no ears, no justice.  And you cry at night when you try to sleep but you can't because the tears and fears won't let you. 

Because you are being stretched thin while the kids you are supposed to be helping are not getting your full attention.  Instead of being properly introduced to the important things that are comprised of a useful education, they are adhering to other, more easily accessible role models.

Like the proper role models displayed on "Jersey Shore".   Consumed by that gigantic lie created from 20th Century media and carried heavily into the 21st, that anyone can be rich and famous, they will follow paths acting as they were taught by what's on the screen. 

And they will fall hard.  And they will consume what they can, when they can.  With their only destiny being that of an uneducated, under-skilled, manual laborer.

God Bless America

I fucking hate it here.

Transcending History or Refreshingly Warm Beernuts

Well, this is my blog.  Whether its a positive force for the world of good or an evil and scheming force of chaos is still pretty irrelevant.  This is, after all, just another shitty blog. 

I am, and with a tinge of pride, happy to announce that I am actually updating it.  So, here it is.  For you cavemen and women to drool and clamor over.  I updated and I'm goddamn proud of it. . .

In actuality, indifference is still my battle standard.  YAY ME.

I'm 32 years old.  I work in fast food.  I go to college to get out of fast food.  Shit, I'd settle for slow food. 

No.  That's a lie.   Fuck food.  I hate everything about it.  Well, mostly the servicing part of it.  I don't enjoy being a virtual slave to these ungrateful slobs.  These disgusting human beings that believe that they deserve the right to be treated respectfully and in a timely manner.  You have money and because of this, you deserve the Royal Treatment.  Well, fuck you.  It's time for a goddamned coup. 

I can't think of a sinlge good reason why the service industry should thrive other than it gives jobs.  I suppose in a backwards and backhanded way I should be saying, "Thanks!" to all these unhealthy and rude fuckheads because, if it weren't for their awful habits of convenience and gluttony, I'd be out of the job.

I could write a book on the subject so I'll just stop there.

In other news, I've been writing creatively again.  I've completed two pieces and that's the most I've done in five years.  The fact that I'm actually writing in this blog should testify that I'm moving more into the direction of writing more.  I've caught the bug again.  It's alive, revivified and thriving.  I'm thinking again. 

It's a strange thing.  Like coming up for air after being submerged for almost too long.  That blast of awareness that catapults you, leaves your arms and legs tingling.  And I like it.

School is school.  I've been gone for five years and now that I'm in the thick of it once more, I remember the awfulness of having absolutely no time for much of anything.  Fulltime fuckfest working, fulltime study/writing fest at school.  It's tough, doing 16 hour days and still having no time or money to show for it.  Yet.

Right.  So.  Movie time and then homework.  I don't really have a use for this blog but I'm sure I'll be back sooner than later.  No promises, though.

Ciao for now.