SelfLoathingMan

To remedy my deficiency - A musical tonic for the dismissal of Melancholia

2009-12-13T07:04:00.000-08:00

Translation: My Dear Disco are currently rocking my world and knocking my socks off.
Check 'em out - http://www.dancethink.com

Popular Myth No. 2,341

2009-12-10T15:05:00.000-08:00

"If you can make a woman laugh you can make her do anything"

Obviously the message here is that women like a man who can make them laugh; not that you can literally control a woman by making her laugh.

Bollocks.

I never toot my own horn so I'm just being honest when I say that I'm a funny fuck when I get going. I've yet to meet a woman that I can't make laugh.

"Why you must knee deep in tail!" one might think.

Stranger, let me tell you. If I had a ha'penny for every dame I've had fall for me due to my gigglesmithery alone! Well, let's just say that I'd have FUCK ALL.

Now, I've visited the garden Oh feminine delights once or twice but those conquests are solely attributable to A.) dumb luck or B.) a lack of better options on her part. I assure you it was not because I made her laugh.

So, one must conclude that, like the pitiably naive belief(s) that women like nice/sensitive/smart men, it's a filthy rotten lie.

MYTH.

BUSTED.

Is self-loathing strong enough a phrase? Discuss.

2009-12-04T18:37:00.000-08:00

I started this blog because I thought it might be cathartic; an outlet for my sadness, self-hatred etc. I'm not sure if it's worked. Maybe I'd be a lot more miserable without it. Maybe I'd have killed myself already. I may as well plough ahead regardless.

So what reason do I find to hate myself today? Well as with all my most potent shit-piphanies it relates to a gathering of people, a little lust, and how I let myself down yet again. Office christmas party 2009: nice dinner, few drinks, and then............................a club. My achilles heel. Or rather another of my achilles heels.

I feel out of place in clubs (or trendy bars). Like Fortycoats at a nudist shindig. I just can't cut it. So I say goodbye to everyone in my mousey little sorry to be a bore way. They object half-heartedly, as if my leaving will in any way reduce the awesomeness of their night. I slump out with my tail between my legs and walk the rainy streets of Dublin wallowing in self-pity.

It doesn't help that I'm irrationaly infatuated with a woman I work with who was at the party. Who asked me why I was leaving. Who I told "it's just not my thing". Who nodded knowingly as if she was completely unsurprised and didn't give a fuck either way. Who's seeing a toned, tall, outgoing, man; essentially the exact opposite of me. Who I try to take my mind off of but can't. Who makes me feel so bad about myself.

I've always resisted the urge to cut myself. It seemed puerile. I'm not a rebellious emo-teen after all. Yet I have a barely containable desire to scar myself. I want to slice into my face a reminder of how I've ruined my own life.

Again, I'll leave it to my dreams to sort out. I'll sleep and let my mind do it's thing. I'll have strange melancholic dreams as my brain processes the information of the evening. Stores. Deletes. Overwrites. Maybe I'll dream I'm a hero. Maybe I'll get the girl. Hopefully I'll awake as always with just enough hope and apathy to get out of bed again. Until the next time.

Bruce Willis wouldn't put up with this

2009-10-28T15:31:00.000-07:00

For the most part, I live my life through a heady cloud of cowardice. I may run my mouth on occasion and make the odd innapropriate comment, but in general I'm a big sweaty pussy. I lay my accomplishments out on the floor like shredded paper and laugh. Oh how I laugh. God, I loathe myself.

If I could ask the greatest man who ever lived what he would do in my shoes what would he say? What would Bruce Willis do differently?

Well for one thing he wouldn't be drifting through life without any direction. Fuck no. Mr Willis would have found his calling and gone after it like a fierce.....animal...of some kind.

Would he gaze at his shoes, chew his lip, fidget, while a parade of beautiful women sashay through his life calling for him to seduce them? Cock! He'd bend those gorgeous dames over the nearest flat surface and roger the living daylights out of them.

Would he politely decline as the smarmy money-collection-twat asks for a donation for the second time? Sure he would....if he was, like, unconcsious or something. Otherwise he's grab that ballbag by his collar, lift him off the ground and throw his quivering carcass beneath the wheels of the next passing automobile.

I love you Bruce Willis. If I could be just a smidge more like you I think I could almost live with myself.

YES!!!!!!!

2009-10-20T14:30:00.000-07:00

Your hair looked like shit today!

Suck it bitch.

and so it comes around again

2009-10-19T12:18:00.000-07:00

There are seconds when I feel hate for you. Or maybe "hate" is too strong a word. A flash of adolescent misogyny perhaps? Whatever it is, it's fleeting. I feel it and I want to keep it. Hating you costs me nothing but when it's gone whats left is intolerable.

You remind me of my weakness and every missed opportunity (there're more than I care to count). There must be some reason I can hate you. It's like a name I can't quite remember; it comes & goes and when it's gone I'm not sure it was ever there. I suppose there was that one stupid, inconsiderate thing you said. But I feel nothing when I think of it. No bitterness or hurt.

I sit here with this need for hate but all that comes to mind are the reasons I want you. Good reasons. What I wouldn't give for some puerile, superficial reasons.

and so I've arrived once again at the junction of desire and in-action.

My Face and Life

2009-10-16T12:47:00.000-07:00

I did a bit of manscaping last night. Just the beard.

It was a mistake.

I'm not ugly, I don't hate my face, it's just got a less-is-more quality. With a beard I look refined, worldly, confident. Without I look the same but gayer.

I like to think of life as a pavement/sidewalk. Sometimes it's level & smooth with few obstacles. Other times it's like your average Dublin pavement; cracked, lumpy, full of dips & dented grates and occupied by rude cunts. Sometimes you stumble, sometimes you fall flat on your face, sometimes you tear your sack on the way down.

I feel a fall coming. Old sack wounds are tingling.

Parties & Dancing

2008-12-07T14:28:00.000-08:00

I'm a rare and special breed; I don't dance. Ever. Unless I'm joking and deliberately trying to make myself look like a twanny - in which case I generally bust out an electric boogaloo and segue into the robot. Predictable & cliched I know, but a crowd pleaser none the less.

Being a man who doesnae dance I am forced, at parties etc, to grin and bear the constant requests and arm pulling and are you shy/don't be shy/bladeebla bullshit. I'm not shy. At least not in this case. I'm just not the dancing type. It holds no appeal for me. Like mountain biking or charity work.

I've had to put up with this bullshit since I was old enough to walk, and especially since I hit my late teens & twenties, so it's no biggy. The problem is that a new weapon's been added to the arsenal of "come dance" harrasment that gets thrown at me. Namely this dancing-in-front-of-me-while-mouthing-the-words shite like I'm suddenly gonna go "Oh so thats what you meant by dancing! In that case stand back bitch cause daddy's got a move he needs to bust"

I don't mind being the grumpy wall-flower at parties I've grown comfortable with this role, but I can't bring myself to be rude. Which means everytime someone comes and dances in front of me I feel obliged to smile and laugh and pretend it's not really, collossally fucking annoying. The come-hither finger curl and windscreenwiper "no-no" finger motion particularly grate on me.

Seeing as how I don't really like parties anyway this is starting to make them almost unbearable. I may just give up the ghost altogether and flatout refuse to go to these shindigs.

Christ hating everyone and everything is just getting easier and easier.

Guess who

2008-11-18T15:27:00.000-08:00

and no it's not your mum.

Though I agree the likeness is uncanny.

Cake-Roots (aka Rage Against the Ma-Cake)

2008-04-28T14:26:00.000-07:00

I give you my Coffee Cake song [to be sung to the tune of Roots by Sepultura during, or prior to, the eating of Coffee Cake]:

Cake.
Cofee Cake.
Cake.
Cofee Cake.
Cake.
Coffee Cake.
Cake.
Coffee Cake.

I believe in my Cake.
I don't need to fake.
It's all I want to eat.
Watch me eat.

I say,
I'm eating all this cake.
I really like this cake.
I'll take you to a place
Where we can find some...

Cake.
Cofee Cake.
Cake.
Cofee Cake.
Cake.
Coffee Cake.
Cake.
Coffee Cake.

Cake,
bring me the strength
to eat another cake.
It's all I want to eat.
Let me eat.

Why
Can't you see
Can't you feel
This is Neal's...

Cake.
Cofee Cake.
Cake.
Cofee Cake.
Cake.
Coffee Cake.
Cake.
Coffee Cake.

Adieu!