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  • Mood: Rage
  • Listening to: Chains of Misery- Iron Maiden
  • Reading: Ghost Summer by Tananarive Due
  • Playing: Devil May Cry- PS2
:bulletred: This is a rant. If you are easily offended, I honestly do not care. :bulletred:

I'm so fucking angry that I feel physically ill right now.

My family can be so goddamned rotten and callous; it's disgusting.

Firstly, my mother called me an idiot and a loser because I told her that I was tired. She whines that I ALWAYS say that, conveniently forgetting that she does the same fucking thing a lot more often that I do!

Thanks, Mom. You sure know exactly what to say, right? Right?? No you fucking don’t.

Tonight, my aunt was demonizing and insulting people protesting regarding the Brown and Garner deaths, and I snapped at her for making such an inaccurate generalization.

Even when I explained FOUR times that the vast majority of the protests were peaceful, and that the movement’s intended goal was to condemn police brutality, in addition to pushing for changing/improving the laws regarding police conduct, she kept demanding "what the answer was"- I just gave it to you! What else do you want from me?!

She kept mocking me, calling me uninformed “as usual”, like a typical "rich, naïve college student."

She doesn't WANT to understand, and she doesn't WANT to care.
"Oh, a couple of black people are dead? Why should I worry about that? It doesn’t affect ME!" /sarcasm


Take your 1960s mentality and shove it. It's about to be 2015, you
insensitive, self-righteous, over-privileged halfwit.

She repeatedly characterized the entire protest movement (including tonight’s protest in New York City) as “a roving mob, a swarm”, or a bunch of “jobless losers in Staten Island blocking the streets”.

Well, NO KIDDING that the streets would be blocked if there were more than 10,000 people there! What, you think traffic would run smoothly, too?

Even a grade-school student could figure THAT out!

Let me tell you something, Aunt. That so-called “mob” as you call them, give a damn about justice more than you ever did, so fuck right off.

...And another thing, fuck nationalism!  It’s a fucking societal disease that clouds honest judgment!

George Orwell said it best:

"
The nationalist not only does not disapprove of atrocities committed by his own side, but he has a remarkable capacity for not even hearing about them."

You know what’s worse? When said nationalism is displayed by a guy I’ve looked up to and admired for the past 13 years.
twitter.com/DAVIDMDRAIMAN/stat…

What kind of arrogant spiel was that? How can you support this bullshit?!


If somebody from Gaza wrote this (change names/places around), you would condemn it to high hell! Fucking double standards and hypocrisy, I hate it!

The Israeli government & PR department has such a fucking victim complex... it’s like a bad joke!

People can’t even criticize Israel without some idiot yelling about antisemitism or other crocodile tears.

I just-- seriously, what the hell?! Really? Really? Of all the bombastic, fear-mongering slander--!  www.blabbermouth.net/news/dist…

You've gotta be morally bankrupt or out of touch with reality to make such a stupid fucking claim!

I don’t even know WHY I waste my breath with some people. It seems pointless. You can lead a human to knowledge and information, but you can’t make them fucking THINK! This is why they’re so selfish and short-sighted! They reject empathy and human decency in favor of arrogance!

I RESENT this shit. I truly do.

  • Mood: Tired
  • Listening to: Paranoid- Black Sabbath
  • Reading: Ghost Summer by Tananarive Due
  • Playing: Devil May Cry- PS2
Hello, it's been a while. I've been sick for the past week with some kind of severe cold/sore throat combination. And I was bed-ridden for most of the time, too.

I'm much better now though, but I'm still blowing my nose often.

Ugh, when I went to the doctor, he had to take a bacteria culture by tilting my head back and sticking a 6-inch q-tip down my nostril- he had to do it twice because I panicked the first time :iconheaddeskplz:

Thanks to everyone who added my work to their Favorites section, and/or commented on them in my absence. I definitely appreciate that :thumbsup:

...I really have to update this journal more often...
The rustling of fallen leaves caught underfoot, or in a gust of wind, is typically considered a pleasant sound. The same could be said for raindrops pattering on the ground, although most people would prefer that with a roof over their heads. I used to think such noises were soothing, too, but after living in the Walden boardinghouse, I am overwhelmed with a sense of primal dread when I hear those sounds, or any similar tones. My friends thought my anxieties and high-strung behavior were the results of my time in France. Shellshock, they called it. While their speculation was understandable, I experienced a different kind of horror shortly after I moved to Brooklyn.

After living like a near-tramp for two years, I managed to scrounge enough money together for a small apartment. It was far in distance and in quality from my childhood home in Long Island, but I had aspirations of living on my own before I had to enlist.

The Walden Building’s exterior was faded and shabby; a dull brownstone with black, skeletal-looking fire escapes and window panes. The interior was well-kept and fairly clean. The landlord, a taciturn Russian named Orlovsky, had clear rules for keeping the place in order, but he was friendly enough when I assured him that I would not cause any trouble while I lived here.

Before going to the main office to negotiate the lease, Orlovsky’s wife, a thin brunette named Yelena, gave me a short tour of the apartment. The domicile in question was small, not for the claustrophobic type, but reasonably priced for its size. I inspected each room, careful to see if the couple was not hiding a broken-down hovel behind a coat of paint. Compared to the time I spent in a bombed-out Hell and ramshackle lodgings, I could easily call the rooms decent.

Since my new home was on the ground floor, that made it easier for me to make my way to work in the teeming, urban labyrinth known as New York City. My employment as a bus mechanic paid enough to cover the apartment rent, in addition to a small number of other bills. Either way, I was determined to keep my job; there was no way I intended to spend a week on the streets again.
--------------------------------------------------------

I realized why Apartment 115’s rent was cheaper than expected on the first night I moved in. There seemed to be an enormous boiler— judging by the litany of clanking and grinding—beneath my kitchen, growling deep down in a rusted basement.  

I scowled, placing the pillow over my head to block out the noise. That didn’t do any good, as the machine steadily raged on. I switched positions several times, although tossing and turning just tangled the sheets. I groaned in frustration, facing the vent set near the ceiling. I glared at it for a few minutes, as if it were an accomplice to the noisy boiler beneath me. It was rather childish on my part, but something in the vent caught my attention. Something was moving behind the metal strips; it was too large to be a rat, and my stomach lurched at the idea of roaches or other vermin. I made a mental note to purchase some lye just in case.

I slowly stood up and crept over to the vent, peering inside. Nothing. I strained my ears, picking up a rustling noise deep within the narrow, metal tunnel. Great. I sighed; that’s another problem already. Orlovsky would be getting an earful tomorrow morning.
--------------------------------------------------------

“I’m deeply disappointed at the fact that neither you nor your wife told me about the boiler problem,” I spoke, arms crossed as I sat on the opposite side of the superintendent’s desk.

Orlovsky ran one hand through his thinning brown hair, sighing in a flustered manner. “My sincere apologies, Mr. Sowell. The boiler hasn’t had any issues in months. Routine maintenance reports for that time have shown nothing out of the ordinary.”

“And the vermin?”

“Vermin?” Orlovsky repeated, blinking at me in surprise. “You saw something in your apartment?”

“Yes. I saw it in the vent,” I said. “I wasn’t sure if it was a rat or a cockroach; it ran before I got a good look at it.”

“I’ll get you some lye when we’re finished talking. Sometimes, vermin like rats and insects manage to get into the building, but it’s usually restricted to the lower levels.”

“Like the ground floor,” I said flatly.

“Y-yes,” Orlovsky mumbled. “Look, the issues with your ventilation will be fixed, and I’ll investigate the boiler problem.”

“I stood up, straightening my jumpsuit. “As they should be. But I have to leave for work now. I’ll be stopping by in the evening, though.”
--------------------------------------------------------

The garage did nothing to brighten my mood. The buses and the permeating smell of oil and rust were all too reminiscent of my image of the deficient boiler beneath my new room. Amidst the bulky machines and skeletal metal above me, it felt as if I was working in an immense, mechanical whale. This particular thought planted a feeling of uneasiness in my mind, but I eventually dismissed it as part of my frustration. I focused my attention on maintaining the bus engines, and I slowly grew more rational as I thought and acted from a mechanic’s perspective.
--------------------------------------------------------

I was relieved to see the lye-dusted bread placed in the vent when I returned to the Walden building that evening, and I wrote a letter of thanks to Orlovsky for his promptness.

The next few days passed by without any incidents regarding the boiler or the vermin, and I was beginning to think that was the end of the matter. On the fifth night, however, that didn’t last. At about 5:30 A.M., I was violently jerked awake by a cataclysmic explosion, followed by a horrid series of gears grinding against each other. I felt my heart-rate spike as my insides lurched. It was difficult to breathe as I staggered to my feet, under the false belief that I was still in St. Mihiel. I reached blindly for the bathroom, stumbling through the narrow door as I felt bile rising in my throat. I wretched into the toilet for several minutes, gasping weakly so air could enter my lungs again.

That noise . . . God, what a hellish sound. In my desperate attempt to reach consciousness, I thought the floor was collapsing, or a cluster of mines had detonated. The shellshock was getting worse for me. This wasn’t the first time I had an episode like this. It usually happened at night, where I was left alone with my thoughts and an unnerving awareness of my own mortality.

As far as I’m concerned, war is a veritable hell on Earth, and the one I had to fight in was nothing short of unnatural torture. After three months in the trenches, the U.S. army was involved in an offensive to breach the Germans’ line— a blast of shrapnel ravaged my left hip and part of my back. The supplies dangling from my jacket and belt shielded the rest of my body, only leaving heavy scarring, second degree burns, and a temporary limp. . . . I wish I could say the same for the others in my platoon, but most of my comrades did not return to the States alive. In some cases, their bodies would never be recovered. The battlefield they caught in became their grave. I still see them in my nightmares, fatally shot, asphyxiating on gas clouds, obliterated by land mines. Other soldiers died from malnutrition and infected wounds, while some committed suicide instead of facing a slow, painful death from various trench sicknesses.

I could still hear my frantic heartbeat even as the boiler groaned ceaselessly beneath my apartment. I grit my teeth, furious at the ruined machine for dragging memories from my worst days back to the front of my mind.

I lay back down, still caught between lucidity and semi-consciousness. I do not remember staying awake much longer, but I spent the rest of the night in a fitful sleep, vulnerable yet restless as I curled in on myself— attempting to hide from the threatening imagery that passed for dreams in my troubled mind.
--------------------------------------------------------

The sound of pouring rain roused me awake, in addition to a potent stench of rot and soaked dirt. I wrinkled my nose in response before heading to the window. The streets outside, while smelling of rain, did not carry the distinct scent in my room. I turned around, narrowing my eyes at the vent. I did not need to approach it to confirm what I already knew, so I decided to pay Orlovsky another visit.

Nine other tenants were standing outside the landlord’s office when I arrived, apparently to complain about the same problem. Orlovsky relented when he saw us, and I offered my help in fixing the boiler and ventilation system. After my grievance, I visited Frank Sullivan, a friend from the bus garage who maintained boilers and certain types of generators. We came back within the hour, waiting for Orlovsky to retrieve the basement keys.

The basement entrance was in the corner of the Walden Boardinghouse, and from the looks of things, I guessed that the area was as large as the ground floor. I tried the lights, but the landing stayed dark.

“Dammit, the lights are dead; probably a blown fuse,” Orlovsky said, switching on his torch and moving to the front of our group.

We headed downstairs, entering a dust-coated basement. All of our torches were on, and the lights revealed a jumble of old crates and a shelf stacked with forgotten tools, chemicals, and paint cans. The fuse box was in the far left corner, in addition to a slightly worn-down boiler a few feet away.

“What? How could it make so much noise . . . ?” I muttered, perplexed. In contrast to the Morlock factory my imagination fancied, the sight seemed completely ordinary.

“It’ can’t be . . . it just can’t . . .” I shook my head as I approached the machine.

Sullivan got the lights working again, filling the basement with a dim, amber glow. He walked over to me, shrugging. “I know what you mean. From what you told me about this thing, I figured that it was ready to explode,” he said.

I needed. “Yeah. I don’t understand it.” I looked around further, checking for another door handle. After moving the rickety shelf, I spotted a forgotten hatch in the floor. “Hey, Orlovsky, where does this lead to?” I asked.

“I’m not sure,” he replied. “I think it’s been sealed off for years, before I became the superintendent . . . To be honest, I haven’t been able to get it open. I have no idea what’s down there.

I squatted down, gripping the handle with both hands. I stood up swiftly, feeling strain burning in my limbs. “Hah . . . hang on . . . I can feel it budging . . . nnnhh . . . a little,” I grunted, releasing my grip after a minute. “. . . Can either of you find a crowbar or something?”

Orlovsky searched the old tool shelf, eventually finding what I needed.

“Thanks. I’ll try it now.” I adjusted the end under the latch, putting all of my weight onto the crowbar. After several minutes of forcing it, the hatch finally opened. It seemed to have been jammed by rust.

“Whatever’s wrong with the boiler has to be down this ladder,” Sullivan stated. “There’s just something . . . off about that smell, though. It’s a lot worse than mold.”

I had already started climbing down. “I don’t care what it is; let’s just see what’s wrong first.”
--------------------------------------------------------

The room we ended up in was no larger than five feet wide. Sullivan found a door opposite the ladder, getting it open with some difficulty. The next room was much larger, though it was pitch black now, and the unusual smell was stronger than ever.  As we moved forward, I noticed that the dark walls ahead of me seemed to move in my line of sight, slow and subtle like a living creature.

A large, distinguishable shape came into view, and I moved a bit faster. A thick, organic-looking film of some kind had grown in and around the ruined boiler, in the corners of the walls, and inside of the empty storage crates, spilling out in clumps. I looked down to see dozens of rat corpses littering the floor, along with glistening pieces of debris I could not identify.

A skittering noise startled me, and the three of us focused our attention on the boiler. To our shock and revulsion, several large insects crawled out. They were roughly the size of my hand, and their spiked legs were bent in an aggressive stance. Small, hook-like pincers clicked angrily, the immutable chattering filling the sub-basement. Dozens became hundred until the floor itself seemed to writhe in time with the swarm. Their claws squeaked and cracked against the grimy concrete, and for a moment, I feel my heartbeat skipping. I can see innumerable eyes glinting in the dark, black beads without compassion.

One of my companions seized a large piece of stone that had crumbled off part of the wall, hurling it in the swarm’s direction. As the stone hit, they all shrieked and jolted across the floor, writhing in confusion and anger. Orlovsky bolted towards the fuse box off to the left, the torch beam dancing erratically as he attempted to get the lights on.

As soon as we saw it properly, I had to be restrained from running back to the ladder. The ruined boiler stood against the far wall, a macabre fixture amongst the roving swarm. If I hadn’t known what the machine was beforehand, I would not have recognized it. A filmy ichor covered the area, thick and repulsive. I stared at the aberration for several tense seconds as a flurry of smaller larvae oozed out. With mounting horror, I realized that it was an egg sac, and these twisted organisms were awaiting another generation.

I shouted at Orlovsky and Sullivan to run upstairs, acting on the demand myself as I sprinted out of the hellhole nest. From the corner of my eye, I saw Sullivan tossing a lit match into the broken boiler. The egg sac immediately went up in flames, with the swarm letting out a collective screech as they skittered around in a frenzy.

Sullivan pulled us through the doorway, slamming it shut as hard as he could. “Get a fire extinguisher. Now!” he snapped, waving at the ladder. Orlovsky climbed up immediately, the sound of his quick footfalls fading. We watched the door with apprehension, sensing the blaze on the other side. It crossed both of our minds that there would be nothing we could do if the door protecting us was burnt down.

I jumped when I heard the clang of the fire extinguisher hitting the concrete, grabbing it within the next second. Sullivan opened the door wide enough for the nozzle to fit through, and I cleared a path before covering the rest of the sub-basement.

The room now had the stench of burnt waste in addition to the now faint smell of rot, earth, and dead rats. I stepped forward carefully, afraid to even take a breath in fear of attracting any remaining creatures. The boiler’s metal shell was charred and blackened, while the egg sac had become a flaking ruin. I stared at the site for a few more minutes, keeping my eyes and ears alert for anything moving in the corners, or behind me. Finding nothing else, I turned and headed for the ladder.
--------------------------------------------------------

I did not stay long enough to learn the ultimate fate of the Walden boardinghouse, although I was fairly sure that it was evacuated and eventually condemned. I’m currently living with my older brother, who moved to the city for a job in construction. He listened to my story with earnest fascination, curious as to how the swarm was able to breed and survive. I could not answer, as speculation always yielded to fear whenever I thought about the encounter. And my terror mounts even higher whenever a whisper of air or rustling leaves reaches my ears. All that came to mind were the crawling abominations in the dark, waiting for their brood.
Beneath the Machine
:iconcommentplz:

I'm glad that I managed to cough this up before 2014 ended! =P

I loved writing this one, though. Thankfully, I actually finished it within the span of two months.

Oh, by the way, this story takes place in 1921, while a "torch" can be another name for a flashlight.

Please critique this piece as honestly as you can (plain insults won't help). What do you like, and what can I improve with? I think I can do much better. Should I add anything, fix up the style, etc.? ...How can I make it scarier?

"Beneath the Machine" story, scenario, & characters (c) :iconcosmic--chaos:
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  • Mood: Bemused
  • Listening to: Adonai, my Lord-- :wumpscut:
  • Reading: Beyond the Wall of Sleep by H.P. Lovecraft
  • Playing: Metal Gear Rising- PS3
  • Eating: a gingerbread house
Wow, I can't believe I last this long. I still remember the day I joined ^^

It's been full of ups and downs, you know?

I've met a lot of great people/friends, and I've felt so much inspiration from the stunning artwork and literature, which numbered in the thousands.

And you know what? I found a folder full of my unfinished drawings (mostly drafts) a few days ago, and I certainly plan on finishing them. ...But first I need to buy more colored pencils (certain types, as I've ran out of several important colors).

Hopefully, I'll still be around in another 8 years :thumbsup:
5/6/2014

"Madness, mayhem, erotic vandalism, devastation of innumerable souls— while we scream and perish, history licks a finger and turns the page."— Thomas Ligotti

"Not necessity, not desire-- no, the love of power is the demon of men. Let them have everything-- health, food, a place to live, entertainment-- they are and remain unhappy and low-spirited: for the demon waits and waits and will be satisfied."-- Friedrich Nietzsche

”There's prophet in the gutter in the street
He says ‘You're damned !’-- and you believe him…
He's got a vision but it shines out through your eyes
A world of hatred and fear…
He's felt what love means…
He wants to pay you back with pain

He lies to you he won't let you be
He's got your chains of misery
He won't be still till he's turned your key
He holds your chains of misery”

                                 --Chains of Misery (Iron Maiden)


No ravenous monster, evil spell, macabre ritual, or eldritch monstrosity bubbling in our imaginations could ever hope to compare with the horrors lurking in the world we are currently living in.

Those who prey upon the vulnerable, the weak, the trusting, are among the most macabre abnormalities our world has. They seek to subjugate, exploit, brutalize, and deceive the world for the sake of their own selfish agendas, insatiable greed, and bloated egos.

In a cruel twist, these puppet masters hold so much power in our world. Worse still, they shamelessly abuse this power to sow widespread death, destruction, and despair behind an immense wall of lies, intimidation, sabotage and hypocrisy... just because they can.

The most sinister revelations about the puppet masters are their lust for chaos and suffering. They comprehend pain, misery, and cruelty, but their twisted pathologies show their clear desire to cause as much of it as possible. They want to wage an endless war on life itself for the sake of their misanthropic depravity. Our fears and insecurities are their weapons, their tools of destruction, the rope they asphyxiate us with.

But that is not enough for them... no.

Like the malignant parasites they are, they take everything they can until nothing is left, before moving on to spread their corruption further.

In their eyes, compassion and empathy is revolting, reason and common decency is a sin. These psychopaths see us as mere insects that deserve to be swatted. We are merely chess pieces and marionettes—- twisted and manipulated until we are unceremoniously discarded. And once they’re done, they’ll torch the stages and crush the ashes into the dirt.

“You have no rights. You have no free will. What the hell makes you think that you matter?”

The puppeteers adore this wretched mindset, relishing the chance to break someone down. They always look down on us, scrutinizing our seemingly insignificant beings for some arbitrary trait— anything to justify their rancor, whether it’s a person’s sex, age, skin color, ethnicity, homeland, religious stance...

They proudly carry the mental and societal diseases known as willful ignorance and systemic deceit, turning people against each other and away from truth. They fester a contagion of apathy and complacence, coagulating into a macabre pathology.

The possibility of being completely alone in these infinite cosmos is not so frightening in comparison to being trapped on a planet with power-hungry monstrosities.

Forget all of that illuminati bullshit, the depraved puppeteers are right in front of us— always have been.

One of the most horrifying things is realizing that we are at the non-existent mercy of powers that are primarily malignant in their nature and motives. Worse, we comprehend this, but there is no chance that we can stop them...

Rampant greed, political corruption, endless warfare, widespread Orwellian surveillance in over a dozen countries, religious crusades, slavery, Jim Crow, genocide and other forms of mass murder, the eugenics movement, both world wars and the contexts surrounding them, the nature of the Cold War, domestic and foreign terror groups, environmental destruction, capitalist greed and exploitation, communist hypocrisy, authoritarian depravity, seditious news media, the absurd unforgivable motives for killing people based on their sex, skin color, or religious stance, child brides, “honor killings”, genital mutilation, human trafficking...

Lucifer, Azathoth, Beezlebub, and Pennywise are toothless fables in comparison.

Something wicked this way comes, and it never wants to stop.
The Depraved Puppeteers

I was extremely depressed when I wrote this back in May, and I was unsure if I should post it.

This... monologue/rant is not that long, but I admit that I was drinking heavily on the night I wrote the first draft.

I am thoroughly convinced that the most wicked, skin-crawling, most devastating horror stories occur in real life— but I do not wish to offend any talented, hardworking, imaginative fiction writers that might be reading this.

I never intended for any of my horror stories to express an overt historical and political commentary, but fuck that— this needed to be said.

Here, have a soundtrack to go with this shit:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=MfekV7…
  www.youtube.com/watch?v=kHVtgA…; www.youtube.com/watch?v=2dPaVk…  www.youtube.com/watch?v=JWC92K…; www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aj-dHh…  www.youtube.com/watch?v=o_dlWw…; www.youtube.com/watch?v=XibCSx…  www.youtube.com/watch?v=P_S1Ka…

My horror fiction is primarily based on whatever bizarre nightmare plagues my sleep… or it is borne from the utter depravity one hears about in reality.

Depression, fear, anxiety, and anguish are my muses, and I have written most of my tales under their shadows. ...so be it.


This special kind of wickedness has frightened me (rightly so) since I was 5 years old, whether it was hearing about the Holocaust from a grade-school teacher— to some god-awful bloodbath involving a couple of monsters in person suits blowing up a building or two to bits, or shooting up their high-school.

While the basic points of cosmicism are valid, I neither fear nor despair of the infinite voids of a vast universe that is indifferent to the existence of our planet, and everything that has or will ever transpire upon it.

No, I fear the evil that men and women do.

Make no mistake, reality can be just as frightening as any work of horror, if not more so.

Still don’t believe me? Well then...

www.aol.com/article/2014/11/13…
cosmic--chaos.deviantart.com/j…
cosmic--chaos.deviantart.com/j…
www.pbs.org/wgbh/aso/databank/…
www.waragainsttheweak.com/
historynewsnetwork.org/article…
www.nature.com/scitable/topicp…
www.eugenicsarchive.org/eugeni…
www.dailykos.com/story/2012/12…
reddebreksbowl.blogspot.co.uk/…
canadafreepress.com/index.php/…
www.itsagirlmovie.com/
pysih.com/
cosmic--chaos.deviantart.com/j…
cosmic--chaos.deviantart.com/j…
cosmic--chaos.deviantart.com/j…
cosmic--chaos.deviantart.com/j…

For fiction, I recommend Quitters, Inc. by Stephen King, and The Abyss by Steve Vance.

...Social injustice shapes individuals for better or worse; I fear that it’s trying to tear many of us apart. I seek to fight against the epitomes of the unnatural, to thwart atrocities hiding beneath a cheap veil of normality.

When staring down evil of colossal proportions, be sure to stab it right in the fucking eye.

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  • Mood: Rage
  • Listening to: Chains of Misery- Iron Maiden
  • Reading: Ghost Summer by Tananarive Due
  • Playing: Devil May Cry- PS2
:bulletred: This is a rant. If you are easily offended, I honestly do not care. :bulletred:

I'm so fucking angry that I feel physically ill right now.

My family can be so goddamned rotten and callous; it's disgusting.

Firstly, my mother called me an idiot and a loser because I told her that I was tired. She whines that I ALWAYS say that, conveniently forgetting that she does the same fucking thing a lot more often that I do!

Thanks, Mom. You sure know exactly what to say, right? Right?? No you fucking don’t.

Tonight, my aunt was demonizing and insulting people protesting regarding the Brown and Garner deaths, and I snapped at her for making such an inaccurate generalization.

Even when I explained FOUR times that the vast majority of the protests were peaceful, and that the movement’s intended goal was to condemn police brutality, in addition to pushing for changing/improving the laws regarding police conduct, she kept demanding "what the answer was"- I just gave it to you! What else do you want from me?!

She kept mocking me, calling me uninformed “as usual”, like a typical "rich, naïve college student."

She doesn't WANT to understand, and she doesn't WANT to care.
"Oh, a couple of black people are dead? Why should I worry about that? It doesn’t affect ME!" /sarcasm


Take your 1960s mentality and shove it. It's about to be 2015, you
insensitive, self-righteous, over-privileged halfwit.

She repeatedly characterized the entire protest movement (including tonight’s protest in New York City) as “a roving mob, a swarm”, or a bunch of “jobless losers in Staten Island blocking the streets”.

Well, NO KIDDING that the streets would be blocked if there were more than 10,000 people there! What, you think traffic would run smoothly, too?

Even a grade-school student could figure THAT out!

Let me tell you something, Aunt. That so-called “mob” as you call them, give a damn about justice more than you ever did, so fuck right off.

...And another thing, fuck nationalism!  It’s a fucking societal disease that clouds honest judgment!

George Orwell said it best:

"
The nationalist not only does not disapprove of atrocities committed by his own side, but he has a remarkable capacity for not even hearing about them."

You know what’s worse? When said nationalism is displayed by a guy I’ve looked up to and admired for the past 13 years.
twitter.com/DAVIDMDRAIMAN/stat…

What kind of arrogant spiel was that? How can you support this bullshit?!


If somebody from Gaza wrote this (change names/places around), you would condemn it to high hell! Fucking double standards and hypocrisy, I hate it!

The Israeli government & PR department has such a fucking victim complex... it’s like a bad joke!

People can’t even criticize Israel without some idiot yelling about antisemitism or other crocodile tears.

I just-- seriously, what the hell?! Really? Really? Of all the bombastic, fear-mongering slander--!  www.blabbermouth.net/news/dist…

You've gotta be morally bankrupt or out of touch with reality to make such a stupid fucking claim!

I don’t even know WHY I waste my breath with some people. It seems pointless. You can lead a human to knowledge and information, but you can’t make them fucking THINK! This is why they’re so selfish and short-sighted! They reject empathy and human decency in favor of arrogance!

I RESENT this shit. I truly do.

deviantID

Cosmic--Chaos
Victoria
Artist | Hobbyist | Varied
United States
Twitter Account: twitter.com/VictoriaSC91
E-MAIL: Just send me a note on this site!
PSN Card: psnprofiles.com/Storm-Wolf-91

Operating Systems: :iconhal9000plz: :iconshodanplz::iconportal2gladosplz:

Current Residence: Weird New Jersey!
Favorite genre of music: Industrial, Gothic Rock, Aggrotech, EBM, Electronic, Darkwave, Rock, Metal
Favorite gaming platforms: PS2, PS3, PC, GameCube, Wii, Nintendo 64, Gameboy Advance
MP3 player of choice: iPod Nano
Shell of choice: Bowser spiky!
Wallpaper of choice: Anything spooky or sci-fi
Favorite cartoon character: Courage the Cowardly Dog, Dr. Franken Stein, Light Yagami, Ryuk, Invader Zim, Dib, Miss Bitters, The Simpsons cast, Futurama cast, Gin, Kyoushiro, the SWAT Kats, Road Rovers, Thundercats, Hetalia cast, Eren Jager, Hanji Zoe

Personal Quote: "I'm not afraid of crime; I just hate it."

TRAITS: Intelligent, reclusive, creative, studious, geeky, painfully honest, obsessive, uptight, reliable, high strung, cynical, impulsive, stubborn, rigid, quick tempered, audacious

LIKES: Reading, drawing, writing stories, video games, creativity, freedom, honesty, debating, psychology, mythology, history, philosophy, astronomy & cosmology, biology, space and ocean exploration, the paranormal/ supernatural, ghost hunting, Goth stuff, anthros, cyberpunk, steampunk, animals, cartoons, anime & manga, computers, comics, food, basketball, creepy paintings, capital punishment, when I'm allowed to drive, charitable and hardworking people that succeed honestly and help others with their success, open minded people, coming up with a great idea at 2 or 3 AM when I can’t sleep, huge snowstorms, awesome fan fiction, bizarre unnatural looking creatures, beating the odds, getting mail

HATES: Crime, greed, exploitation, lies, authoritarianism, communism, anarchism, extremism, hypocrisy, corruption, nihilism, sadists, bullies, pollution, oppression, censorship, propaganda/ Genocide, eugenics, racism, discrimination- they’re all on the same scale of evil/ Social Darwinism, Slash, Yaoi & Yuri, "Guro", writer's block, failure, boredom, math, humidity, lazy people, smoking, imperfection, sleep, sunburn, teen "drama" shows, mannequins, loud people, pop music/ Whoever thinks that (awful) ends justify the violent, often exploitative, clandestine, and underhanded means/ People who get rich dishonestly, by committing crimes, and/or exploiting others/ Whoever hunts for sport, and when they don’t use any other parts of the dead animal for ethical means/ People who have a delusion that they’re above it all, and think that people who have different views are stupid.

...OK, enough about that.

FAVORITE WRITERS: H. P. Lovecraft, Edgar Allan Poe, Edward Gorey, Stephen King, J. K. Rowling, Fyodor Dostoevsky, S. Anski, Dante Alighieri, Virgil, John Milton, Voltaire, George Orwell, Erich Fromm, Arthur Koestler, Aldous Huxley, Franz Kafka, Clive Barker, H. G. Wells, August Derleth, Frank Belknap Long, Frank Herbert, Joseph Conrad, Jules Verne, Jim Kjelgaard, Joseph Heller, Anton Chekhov, Mikhail Bulgakov, Dmitry Glukhovsky, Andrey Platonov, Leo Tolstoi, Vaclav Havel, Karel Čapek, Hermann Hesse, Ralph Ellison, James Baldwin, Kenneth Oppel, Bill Watterson, Robert A. Heinlein, John Shirley, Ambrose Bierce, C.S. Lewis, Anne Rice, James Frazer, Bram Stoker, Shirley Jackson, William Gibson, John Shirley, Michael Crichton, Jacques Derrida, T. S. Eliot, Ambrose Bierce, A. Lee Martinez, Roald Dahl, Bill Willingham, and all the writers of my favorite manga series (mentioned below).

FAVORITE ARTISTS: M. C. Escher, Zdzislaw Beksinski, Sidney Sime, Edward Gorey, Stephen Gammell, Jhonen Vasquez, Tim Burton, H. R. Giger, Otto Dix, Todd McFarlane, Yoshihiro Takahashi, Takeshi Obata, Bill Watterson, Salvador Dali, Hieronymus Bosch, Al Hirschfeld, Francis Bacon, Pieter Bruegel the Elder, Giorgio de Chirico, Bill Willingham

FAVORITE VIDEO GAMES: Mario series, Crash Bandicoot series, Star Fox series, Donkey Kong series, Ratchet & Clank series, Silent Hill series, Half-Life series, American McGee’s Alice, Alice: Madness Returns, Bioshock series, System Shock (1 & 2), Portal (1 & 2), Left 4 Dead (1 & 2), Dead Space series, Oddworld series, Amnesia: The Dark Descent, Resident Evil series, Haunting Ground, Dishonored, Devil May Cry series, inFamous series, The Wolf Among Us

FAVORITE BANDS: Disturbed, Metallica, Grendel, Funker Vogt, Evanescence, Voltaire, The Misfits, Device, Iron Maiden, Rammstein, Feindflug, Depeche Mode, Lacuna Coil, The Sisters of Mercy, London After Midnight, The Cruxshadows, Anders Manga, Nine Inch Nails, Tactical Sekt, Aesthetic Perfection, Suicide Commando, VNV Nation, God Module, Front Line Assembly, KMFDM, :wumpscut:, The Cure, Gorillaz, Joy Division, My Chemical Romance, Hawthorne Heights, Bauhaus, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Black Sabbath, KISS, Theatre of Hate, I Am Ghost, Die Sektor, Skinny Puppy, 45 Grave

Favorite Movies: 9, Akira, Felidae, Black Swan, In the Mouth of Madness, Freaks, Metropolis, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, M, Sweeney Todd, The Nightmare Before Christmas, Corpse Bride, The Crow, Repo! The Genetic Opera, Cube, A Clockwork Orange, Dr. Strangelove, Pacific Rim, BeetleJuice, Death Becomes Her, The Rocky Horror Picture Show, The Little Shop of Horrors, Event Horizon, Alien series, Blade Runner, Megamind, Dark City, Chinatown, Videodrome, eXistenZ, Shivers, District 9, Alice in Wonderland (any version), Spirited Away, Castle in the Sky, My Neighbor Totoro, Princess Mononoke, Fritz the Cat, 8 Mile, From Dusk Till Dawn, Dog Soldiers, Hellraiser, Friday the 13th (first 3), The Shining, The Fearless Vampire Killers, The Matrix Trilogy, Eraserhead, Atlantis: The Lost Empire, The Lion King trilogy, Balto, All Dogs Go To Heaven, Anastasia, Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow, Edward Scissorhands, Orphan, The Godfather trilogy, The Silence of the Lambs, Hannibal, Red Dragon, The Pirates of the Caribbean series, Star Wars series, Indiana Jones series, Rocky series, The Terminator series, nearly every other 2D animated movie, lots of classic black-and-white horror flicks, and anything with zombies.

Favorite TV shows: Courage the Cowardly Dog, The Simpsons, Futurama, The Marvelous Misadventures of Flapjack, Rocko’s Modern Life, SWAT Kats, Road Rovers, Talespin, Thundercats, Dexter’s Laboratory, The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy, Invader Zim, Danny Phantom, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Spongebob Squarepants, Family Guy, South Park, American Dad, The Addams Family, Reaper, The X-Files, Supernatural, The Twilight Zone, Hannibal (2013), River Monsters, Cosmos

Favorite Film-makers: Tim Burton, Roger Corman, Stanley Kubrick, David Cronenberg, George A. Romero, Clive Barker, Roman Polanski, David Lynch, John Carpenter, Wes Craven, Ridley Scott, Hayao Miyazaki, George Lucas, Stephen Spielberg, Akira Kurosawa, Shinya Tsukomoto, Takashi Miike

Favorite Anime/ Manga: Ginga Nagareboshi Gin, Ginga Densetsu Weed, Death Note, Soul Eater, Wolf’s Rain, Hellsing, Franken Fran, Hetalia, Wolf Guy: Wolfen Crest, Bio-Meat: Nectar, Bokurano, Attack on Titan/Shinkgeki no Kyojin,

Favorite Comics: Nil: A Land Beyond Belief, Blacksad, Fables, The Crow, Johnny the Homicidal Maniac, Squee, Spawn, Doktor Sleepless, Calvin & Hobbes, Garfield, Bone, Fritz the Cat, The Astounding Wolf-Man, The Walking Dead, From Hell, V For Vendetta, Girl Genius, Lackadaisy,

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:icondarkzonegraphics:
DarkZoneGraphics Featured By Owner Dec 10, 2014  Professional Traditional Artist
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:iconpahanda:
pahanda Featured By Owner Nov 23, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thank you sooooo much for the nice comment and the fav :hug:
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:iconthewolfcreek:
thewolfcreek Featured By Owner Nov 15, 2014  Hobbyist Photographer
Thank you for the fav...
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:iconlillianevill:
LillianEvill Featured By Owner Nov 15, 2014
Thanks for the faves! Boogie! 
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:iconb4ld3r:
B4LD3R Featured By Owner Nov 14, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
thanks for the favourite ;)
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:iconryvienna:
Ryvienna Featured By Owner Nov 14, 2014  Student General Artist
Thanks for the fav, I hope you join my Coloring contest!!
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:iconstatic--death:
static--death Featured By Owner Nov 13, 2014  Hobbyist Photographer
Thanks so much for the favorite! :icondurrhurrplz:

If you dig my work, please help support the arts and give my facebook page a like :www.facebook.com/StaticDeathPh…

:dance::dance::dance:
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:iconthewolfcreek:
thewolfcreek Featured By Owner Nov 6, 2014  Hobbyist Photographer
Thank you for the fav my friend...
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:iconcelestialrayna:
CelestialRayna Featured By Owner Nov 6, 2014

Hi!

Thank you very much for the :+fav: on this Pokemon picture:

Lost and alone by CelestialRayna

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:iconangelbelievers:
angelbelievers Featured By Owner Nov 4, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thank you so much for the fave~!! :D :hug:
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