Mind of Gonz

Church of the Poison(ed) Mind

Being left out in the cold by someone you were attached to for two years is a difficult thing to deal with. Especially when you haven’t had meaningful contact with any women in the six months since she left you. And yet, I know that my still-constant obsession is incredibly unhealthy. It’s barely a conscious process; it’s not as though I am driving to her house, harassing her with phone calls, emails and constant stalking like some jilted lovers. On the contrary, I’ve made every effort to push her as far out of my life as possible, going so far as to tell her I never wanted her to contact me again.

My ex is the type of naive girl who has every desire to maintain the friendship with men she’s dated in the past. She’s either too selfish or not knowledgeable enough to know that men don’t exactly stop wanting a woman just because the relationship no longer exists on the same terms it used to. A friendship with her is something I cannot accept on any terms; it would be me admitting that I am a eunuch to her, someone she looks at as though I have no male genitalia. It would be far more painful than being without her for the rest of my life.

And yet, I still find myself thinking about her in some way every single day. She invades my dreams, either to cajole and taunt me or to apologize for the mistake she made and try to reunite with me. These are all expressions of my deepest fears and desires. An interesting paradox has formed; even though I find myself hating her for all the things that transgressed during our breakup, and what happened after- knowing that even after two years, she would not give up her virginity to me, and instead had sex with her next boyfriend after less than six months, a fact that still haunts me- I find I would not want anything more than for her to be back with me as my girlfriend. Why? Why would I ever subject myself to torture like that? I know in my rational mind that the relationship would be as bad as it was before, that she’s just as - if not more- selfish as she was then. Why do I want her? Why does she haunt my dreams and poison my mind during the day? Why do I care? All questions with no clear answer, other than that my emotions are reckless, stupid, and scariest of all, powerful.

Swedish lesbians suck sperm banks dry

mario0318:

Sweden’s fertility clinics are racking up a serious backlog of people waiting for artificial insemination, due in part to a “spike” in demand from lesbian couples for vital supplies of man juice.

So bad have things got that prospective customers at Sahlgrenska University Hospital in Gothenburg are now forced to wait 18 months for treatment.

The problem, the Göteborgs-Posten explains, is that a 2005 law change granted “female same-sex couples” the right to fertility treatment at Swedish hospitals. Previously, this privilege extended only to married women or those who were “registered heterosexual partners”.

Inger Bryman, Sahlgrenska’s head of gynaecology and reproductive medicine, told the paper: “We had estimated an increase of around 25 couples per year after the law change. Now there are 90 couples in line.”

Sweden’s lesbians are not the sole cause of the sperm drought. Swedish law allows kids to learn their biological father’s identity once they turn 18. This hasn’t done much to encourage donors.

The main reason, though, is apparently duff sperm - “either related to deterioration while being frozen or to medical conditions”.

The upshot of the Swedish sperm crisis is that couples are increasingly looking abroad for their impregnations, principally to Denmark and Finland.

Look Back In Anger

When it’s late at night, past twelve, I leave my apartment to stand out by the riverfront near my neighborhood.  In my brown coat, I stand near the green railing that separates the street from the bank of the water. It’s too late for much traffic on the road, but every so often a fast moving car will zip by, nearly silent aside from the sound of the tires rolling across the ground. I stand facing the river, and with no street lights around, my figure is a black silhouette, except on moonlit nights when the dim light reflects off the water nearby.

In these moments of the night, my mind often travels back to some of the darker moments of my short life. It travels back to my apartment, several years ago, to a time I try to forget. Memories are often harder to get rid of than the people in them. “So what do you like so much about him? You moved so quickly to move in with him, I’d like to know.”

I asked this question to the pretty young blonde sitting next to me on my couch. She was two years younger than me at the time, wearing a dress you’d expect to see on a flapper from the prohibition era. It was 2009. She had moved through several fashion phases, now having cut her hair shorter than shoulder length, and developing an affection for white stockings. She breathed in and her body tensed slightly as she answered the question. “I dunno, we just have this connection. Besides, I had nowhere else to stay. It was just a good opportunity, you know?” As she said the last words of her answer, she turned to look at me in the eye. Her brilliant green eyes rounded into a sort of ‘helpless little girl’ shape, a natural reaction for her when seeking approval from someone.

“So I guess that’s what a guy has to do for you to give your virginity to him? Give you a house?” I blurted, my mouth running faster than my mind. A disgusted look flashed across her face, and she reared back like an angry mother duck defending her chicks. Only this girl was defending the image she cultivated for herself. “If that’s the only kind of shit you’re going to say to me tonight, I’m leaving. I don’t even know why I came here.”

“I just can’t believe you. You strung me along for two years and left me a fucking virgin, all because I was willing to wait for you to be ready. Then you go and fuck some guy you’ve known for less than 4 months?” I was seething now, all the anger that had welled up in the months since our breakup flowing freely from me. My emotions had hijacked every part of my body. Even as I was angry at her, I wanted nothing more than for her to leave this man she was with and come back to me. Even as I yelled at her and shook with rage, thoughts of throwing her on the couch and fucking her flashed through my brain. The male mind is a tangled, feverish mess. Or at least, mine is.

“Listen, you don’t understand anything. I just wasn’t ready. I’ve been through a lot since we broke up, I wish you could just get over it. I still care about you, I still want to be friends!” Those last words are the last thing any man wants to hear from a woman he has feelings for. It’s the psychological equivalent of castration. “You’ll never get it…I can never be friends with you.”

“Why not? We still get along so well…we had fun today until you started acting crazy!” It was true, we had fun that day. But I couldn’t wear the mask of civility any longer. I had too many old wounds that still hadn’t healed.

“We can’t be friends because you don’t look at me like a man anymore. The way you act around me, the way you talk to me is the way you talk to those dumpy, geeky male friends of yours, and I’m not them. I’m not your fucking patsy.”  She burst into tears at this, but I was long numb to this reaction. I felt she was a woman not to be trusted, someone who would use tears as a defense mechanism. She left soon after, still in tears. I haven’t spoken to her since.

My mind returned to the riverfront as I leaned against the guardrail, hands cradled together. In many ways, I regretted saying the things I said to her, yet I knew they were the things I truly felt.  Emotions are a strange thing, and seem only to get in the way in my case. I sometimes feel that maybe I should’ve just accepted her offer of friendship. I knew that was impossible, the need to have her as mine again was too strong. It’s a strange thing, being completely bound and disarmed by someone to the point that even as you hate them, you love them. It’s a painful place to be, especially as they have someone’s else’s arms around them. At that moment, the image of her in bed with her new boyfriend flashed painfully through my mind. My brain winced, and I reflexively picked up a pebble off the sidewalk, and cast it into the water. As I heard the splash, I stuck my hands into my coat pockets, turned and went back to my apartment near the riverfront.

O-Town: The Swamp Kingdom

It’s been a week since my arrival in Orlando. It’s common to affectionately refer to the city as “O-Town.” Orlando is a different world compared to South Florida. It radiates a strange energy, something I would expect from a place such as New Orleans, Mobile or another “Swamp” mecca. At night, the streets are unusually dark, and not entirely for lack of street lights (which, oddly, most streets do not have many of); there simply seems to be a suffocating darkness over most of the city and its outskirts, something that is enhanced, rather than lessened, by the pervasive amount of neon and LED signs that litter every street side.

Orlando is a plastic kingdom, drenched in neon and built atop a pitch black marsh. Disney chose this land for its isolation from the rest of society; unfortunately, he didn’t count on its own version of society, mutated and startling, growing up right in his back yard. Orlando has a different vibration from most cities. It seems almost too large and yet congested, a claustrophobic feeling from wide open spaces that I’ve never experienced before. It brings to mind thoughts of ancient voodoo curses or evil spirits hanging around the city, since there’s a very good chance it was built on top of old witching grounds or various tribal gravesites.

Orlando is often considered the angriest city in the United States, and often the world. Driving here is a hazard; this was something I noticed immediately, that not only are the roads designed with little foresight or sense, but that every Orlandian drives extremely aggressively, making the roads more like a 60mph ride down a congested, booby-trapped Mumbai alley than the leisurely cruise down a wide Florida highway they seem to be. I’ve begun to develop an instinct to power drive, as it is often necessary to make exits and turns. I’ve learned quickly that in Orlando, most people will not give you an opening to pass or merge, you’re forced to make your own opening. It’s an interesting case of adaptation in the face of necessity, as nearly every other driver on the road will cut me off, merge without warning, and operation essentially as though they are the only drivers on the road. It’s absolutely key to survival to develop the ability to react at razor-thin margins of time, and be able to take the role of aggressor when the opportunity presents itself. An environment like this is good training for anyone who plans on driving a combat vehicle into hostile territory in the future. Every motorist is an enemy.

Overall, I’ve found that Orlando has more good going for it than bad. It isn’t anywhere nearly as boring as Coral Fucking Springs, has a great deal of attractive, college-age females, and is generally friendly to those with alternative tastes in music. Orlando appears to have a very healthy metal scene, and I’m hoping a healthy underground/experimental scene as well. I look forward to attending shows here over the time that I am living here.

When the Fog Clears, The Banshee is Still Seen On The Front Lawn

My old gold lover
Dancing behind a light
Stockings and slippers
Shuffling to the right

An old, rolled flower
Petals folded in fright
But the scent
Carries an unknown might

Even as I run
Even as I push away
The ghost of times passed
Still makes a home
On my shoulder

Everywhere I go

I hear free jazzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

The Egyptian Juniper Grove

I had an extremely vivid and detailed dream last night, and unlike most of my dreams, this actually had a plot.

It started out with a murder mystery. A man named Jim Brown had been killed in cold blood in one of the less populated areas between West Virginia, Kentucky or Tennessee. The dream was not clear, all I was aware of was that it was lower Appalachia, hillbilly country. I had decided to investigate into this man’s life to try and find motive for his murder. I soon discovered that this man was not only one of the filthiest specimens of humanity I’d ever come across, he had also had sex with over 300 people, men and women, around the Appalachian area. He was ex-Army, a veteran of Vietnam, volunteered, not drafted. Even before then, stretching back to his younger years, he had a penchant for fucking anything that moves, often extending to rape. Even more disturbing was the fact that most of the men and women he had sex with now had positions of power, were titans of business and manufacturing, or were heavily involved in crime and drug trafficking around the Appalachia.

The thread ran deeper. I had discovered all this through arduous searching and researching of old documents, letters, photographs, firsthand and secondhand accounts, and apparent archival footage that had been taken. I was aiding his sister, Jaimie Brown, in finding her brother’s killer. She had an assistant whose name I never knew, but was apparently played by Wilmer Valderama from That 70’s Show. She rode around in a white panel van, much like one of the Hostess snack cakes distributor trucks.

The dream truly began (all of the above was foreknowledge, a very interesting aspect of dreams) with her and I in completely separate locations. She was somewhere around Charleston, WV, and I was completely lost in Appalachia, having run my car into the ground. I eventually discovered a small hub of civilization where a family lived in what was otherwise wilderness. They weren’t aggressive and didn’t seem inbred. However, the area around them was extremely surreal; The forest was thick with very small trees that the man I met kept calling “Egyptian Juniper trees.” They were short like shrubs, and had very soft bark that and average man could snap with one hand. The bark also appeared to be covered in oversized sugar cubes, and the leaves were very small needles, like pine, except they were tightly grouped into balls that rested on the ends of each of the branches.

The male head of the family I met was the only one I actually conversed with. He told me that he would help me get back on the road to meet Ms. Brown in Charleston. However, he would not tell me where I actually was, or even what state I was in. He would mumble something, and say a state after it, which ran the gamut from “Broken Falls, SC” to “Juniper Glen, TN.” This was a recurring theme of the dream; my complete inability to discern my exact whereabouts. I also spoke to my new friend about various things in the modern world, and discovered he had shut himself off almost completely from all sources of outside information. When I mentioned that I wish I could call my friend to use the internet to find out my exact location, he became angry. He cursed the internet, thinking it was some sissy city boy’s way of taking the power away from real men. I argued that it wasn’t, but he shut out any idea that it could be anything but evil. Things became quite tense after that

The dream then changed drastically, switching to Ms. Brown in Charleston, attempting to order food at a Popeye’s drive-thru. However, when she pulled up to the drive-thru, she heard a man and a woman fucking very loudly over the intercom. In fact, the fucking was so loud, that it could be heard across most of Charleston. The manager, who was away, was alerted, and arrived promptly. The man who was doing the fucking was young, and looked almost exactly like pictures of Jim Brown depicted at the beginning of the dream. He complained that he was interrupted, and argued with the manager. Jaimie and Wilmer stood by, wondering when they would get their food.

It’s after this point that the plot of the dream fragments. It’s unclear to me, but at one point when they had finally gotten their food and Jaimie had gone off to use the bathroom, a man approached Wilmer. He was a taller man, large framed and wearing a wifebeater and a bad goatee. He threatened Wilmer, who was smoking out of a bong made from a 40oz bottle of malt liquor. He smack the bottle out of Wilmer; hands and demanded to know where Jaimie was. Unknowingly, when Wilmer lied and told him a random location, he told him exactly where I was.

When Jaimie returned from the bathroom, Wilmer explained what happened to him. She told him that what he’d done was very dangerous, and began to go into detail about her and her brother’s sexual past. Apparently she had accompanied him on his sexual conquests, and the two of them had fucked so many people that they actually knew the majority of all important figures in the region. They had also crossed a number of lines, raping members of families and getting their kin on their tail, looking for revenge. The last clear moment of the dream came when she said “Me and Jim fucked all sorts…nigs, nips, sooks, gooks, politicians, little girls, teenage boys, wives, husbands…We got the keys to plenty of cars and plenty of rooms. We knew people.”

[03:40] Ra: orlandians love appliances
[03:40] Gonzo: Well who doesn’t
[03:41] Ra: african poors
[03:41] Gonzo: Whatever
[03:41] Ra: lol
[03:41] Ra: have you seen Che
[03:41] Gonzo: “African Poors”
[03:41] Gonzo: Even a fucking 1600s dandy would ask you where the fuck you pulled that phrase from
[03:42] Ra: well you know
[03:42] Ra: africans
[03:42] Gonzo: SHUTUP

[02:32] crazyeruption: i need some tunes
[02:33] Gonzo: ******
[02:33] Gonzo: I’m on right now
[02:35] Gonzo: What is your name
[02:35] crazyeruption: what else?
[02:35] Gonzo: CRAZYERUPTION
[02:36] Gonzo: You should name yourself “EddieVanHalensTongue” or something somewhere
[02:38] crazyeruption: hahahaha
[02:38] crazyeruption: ToungueCancerRoth
[02:39] crazyeruption: Tongue Cancer and Roth
[02:39] Gonzo: A law firm

Omegle.com

[02:55] Gonzo: Man fuck it
[02:55] mario0318: Manfuckit, CO
[02:55] Gonzo: I wanna buy a trunkload of drugs and work my way across the country until I die in a car fire somewhere in northern Wyoming
[02:56] mario0318: sounds excellent
[02:57] Gonzo: That could be added to my growing list of ways I want to die when I get too old to fuck anymore

Quantum Poop

[13:57] Gonzo: However, I do need to tell you about the dream I had
[13:57] Gonzo: It was extremely epic
[13:58] mario0318: do
[13:58] Gonzo: It started with a coup in Ecuador
[13:58] Gonzo: Some new dictator took over and he was being blasted by the American media
[13:58] Gonzo: And apparently some royalist hermit opposed his government and went to confer with him
[13:58] Gonzo: And this prompted a full scale alien invasion
[13:59] Gonzo: Alien warships hovered outside of our atmosphere and sent capsules of troops down to our surface
[13:59] Gonzo: The landscape and appearance of earth was immediately changed, everything became like a horrible acid trip
[14:00] Gonzo: Buildings were neon colored, people became psychotic, tyheir behavior patterns were very rigid
[14:00] Gonzo: You and I were left sane, and we traveled across broward county, observing everything
[14:00] Gonzo: We walked into a used game store that was bright yellow and had two people with distorted faces in it
[14:01] Gonzo: They were confronting us and had NES controllers in their hands
[14:01] Gonzo: We also encountered Ashton Kutcher teaching someone to speak Russian while his house fell apart
[14:01] Gonzo: We offered to put it back together for him, but he declined
[14:02] Gonzo: We finally decided to travel to the heart of the disturbance, a very large house somewhere in broward
[14:02] Gonzo: As soon as we entered, reality became extremely distorted
[14:02] Gonzo: We would move from room to room without warning or knowledge that we had gone anywhere
[14:03] Gonzo: Walls would disappear and reappear at random
[14:03] Gonzo: At one point I lost you, and I immediately stopped, and said “Ok, this is usually the part of the dream where things get really fucked up”
[14:03] Gonzo: And I decided that finding you would prevent thaty
[14:03] mario0318: haha
[14:03] Gonzo: So I sort of willed you back into existence and we went on
[14:04] Gonzo: And found that the disturbance manifested itself into three beings;
[14:04] Gonzo: A teenage girl who was throwing a fit over her skin problems
[14:04] Gonzo: And two hick aliens that had come to earth to find their parents, who had been marooned centuries ago
[14:05] Gonzo: My persepective of the dream switched to them as they traveled the same areas we had, recording their travel on an alien toy camera
[14:05] Gonzo: They eventually found their parents, who had become completely humanized and americanized, and acted like trailer trash
[14:06] Gonzo: My perspective switched back to myself as I tried to have sex with the girl we found in the house, but she wasn’t a corporeal being
[14:06] Gonzo: Merely a manifestation of the disturbance being caused on earth
[14:06] Gonzo: So we left the room she was in and found our way back to the front of the house
[14:07] Gonzo: And found a few people sitting around eating hors d’oevures
[14:07] Gonzo: With a large cache of alien weapons sitting in front of them
[14:07] Gonzo: They acted like whatever they were doing was perfectly normal, and had no idea where the weapons came from
[14:07] Gonzo: So I took a cheese biscuit and resolved to leave
[14:07] Gonzo: That’s where the dream ends
[14:07] mario0318: with a cheese biscuit