Once upon a morning dreary, while at breakfast I was sleepy
Upon many channels I switched just like before.
Suddenly something was showing, and I heard a familiar crowd's roar
The 6th game of the Finals was playing and someone wanted to settle the score.
'Twas Lebron James, the king whore
Ah, I distinctly remember in the bleak month of July
"The Decision" was a big white lie.
It was all Hollywood the coverage seemed to imply
Most sane basketball fans only breathed a sigh
But somewhere in Cleveland, "Traitor!" was the cry
Several fans were shaken, when the deal was swiftly taken,
What else might be in store?
Bosh, Wade had bought it, The Heat franchise was willing to try it.
For most, no one can deny it, that they wanted their place in championship lore.
Can the "Heatles" win one when they played on the floor?
"Yes!" the new "fans" did roar.
Will the team become a winner? Making fans buy them dinner.
It was doubtfult since ego brought them infamy
Haters heckled them instantly when they failed to deliever
It seemed that in team basketball they were beginners
But they did this to get something to wear in their ring fingers.
Soon the hype was outdated, some were no longer elated.
As they struggled in the regular season to beat the top-caliber teams
The Celtics, the Bulls and the Mavs, It seemed like a pipe dream
So how in the name of heaven will this team get off the floor?
The Commissioner hasn't slammed the door
The playoffs came with a mighty roar
Although Heat sweeping the Sixers was a mighty bore.
They didn't remind the fans of any team in the days of NBA yore.
Even if 4-1 was indeed the score,
Watching Lebron, strut around, was such a chore.
The Celtics series caused confusion
Muddled by the officials' delusion, some fans became disillusioned
That maybe it indeed was rigged.
The series ended 4-1 and Rondo in a sling
The team didn't foresee the questions that it will bring.
The Bulls was an upset
Causing a lot to lose their bet
What in heaven's name caused the Bulls to lose on the floor, 1-4?
And so questions became piling more and more.
Still Lebron made cash galore
The Mavs was the end of the story
By now some were already weary.
Repeat or revenge did not convince some at all
While some said it was revenge for Dallas
Those who said repeat thought the opponent was hapless.
And so Game 1 was a victory for Miami,
But Game 2 was a loss for them and it seemed funny.
For there were many talks about it being another 4-1 series
Deja vu it seemed
Doesn't matter, in 6 games, Miami got creamed.
And so the man tweeted:
"The Greater Man upstairs know when it's my time. Right now isn't the time."
It was a joke it seemed. A joke you said?
What's the difference between a Lebron and a dollar?
and then the joke went on; a dollar has four quarters.
So after months of hype and rumors,, Growing like malignant tumors.
Lebron James failed yet again to secure a place in championship lore
"Why?" his loyal "fans" may ask. Why?
Because the King without a ring was a whore.
Quoth the Basketball Gods, "Nevermore!".
Don't take it personal, Lebron
Heckling isn't a punishable crime
Sorry, but you still have a long way to climb.
If you're lucky, you might win one ring in this lifetime
But until that, enjoy your summer time
first published: June 14, 2011 at 11:10am
Biyernes, Hunyo 17, 2011
The Cynic (read on your own accord.)
Since I got nothing better to do, I decided to write the plot for our final requirement in Mythology which is presenting our life as a heroic journey. Read it if you wish:
Heroic journey? What a joke. What was I to write about or in my case, draw about? I was a never “hero” and no, I don’t plan to be. A hero is defined as: A. A mythological or legendary figure often of divine descent endowed with great strength or ability. B: an illustrious warrior. C: a man admired for his achievements and noble qualities. D: one that shows great courage. E. an object of extreme admiration and devotion. Now, I ask you do I fit those qualities? No, I change my mind, don’t answer that question. I’m not an archetypal hero, I’m not even an average teenager. I don’t live in an imaginary fairy-tale world or in a substance induced dream. I’m dead, gone and seldom seen. I’m trapped in the other side of life and continually attempt to find my way in a world in which I don’t think I really belong. I’m a cynic. I’m not one who merely reads bitter lessons from the past, I’m one who is prematurely disappointed with the future. Isolation from others is my defense mechanism and at times I use it as proof that I’m better than anyone else around me and that I’m above interacting with them. My cynicism too serves as a type of self-protection from everything and it’s the source of what little sanity remains in my life. I don't mean to sound bitter, cold, or cruel, but I am, so that's how it comes out.
Isolation, at times, is the cause of problems or aggravates it. I never address my own emotions directly nor do I attempt to forget the wrongdoings done to me. Now, some might say love, human contact and communication can solve everything, but my own protective wall of bitterness and cynicism prevents me from looking for such interaction. I depend on isolation to preserve my detachment from the world and to maintain a level of self protection, and I often sabotage my own attempt to end loneliness. Yes, both physical and emotional relationships may offer me the opportunity to break out my isolated shell. People are unpredictable and unappreciative, and it’s a challenge for me and at times, forces me to question my self confidence and self worth. Although I encounter opportunities for both physical and emotional intimacy, I screw it up and I wrap myself in a psychological armor of critical cynicism and bitterness. Not worth the time, money and effort as my perception would go. You need to trust people to be betrayed, I seldom did. Sometimes it’s better to be alone, I only feel alone when I’m with people. Sometimes I get the feeling the whole world is against me, but deep down I know that's not true. Some smaller countries are neutral. Oh yeah, going back, I don’t speak much, my opinion matters as much as the opinion of your neighbor’s pet rooster anyway.
“Phoniness” the catch-all for describing the superficiality, hypocrisy, pretension and shallowness for everything that I encounter in the world. It stands as an emblem for everything that’s wrong in the world around me and it provides an excuse for me to withdraw to my cynical isolation. People never notice anything. And they think everything’s all true. I play second banana to everyone, and usually the last priority or second to the last to be fair. But don’t worry I reserve my scorn for people who think they are something they are not or who refuse to acknowledge their own weaknesses. Take some people who are crazy about cars. They worry if they get a little scratch on them, and they're always talking about how many miles they get to a gallon, and if they get a brand-new car already they start thinking about trading it in for one that's even newer. I don't even like old cars. I mean they don't even interest me. What’s up with that, anyway? Am I bitter that they have more than I do? No. I’d take the bus, I’ll walk for the rest of my life if I have to. At least, I don’t worry about gas. Screw those rich materialistic bastards. Might as well screw everyone else. Get it inside your head that you are not special. You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake. You're the same decaying organic matter as everything else. Some people are alive only because it's illegal to kill them. .But the world is not as simple as one would think, for even I couldn’t adhere to the same black and white standards which I use to judge other people. Yes, I am a phony, I’m my own counterevidence. I'm the most terrific liar you ever met in your life. It's awful. If I'm on my way to the store to buy a magazine, even, and somebody asks me where I'm going, I'm liable to say I'm going to the opera. It's terrible. Lying is a form of phoniness, a type of deception that indicates insensitivity, callousness and even cruelty. Ironic thing is, I tend to refuse acknowledging my own shortcomings and I’m unwilling to consider how my behavior affect the people around me. They say happiness is a choice, so I’ll smile but I’m being phony that way. Nobody's happy forever. Happiness comes in small doses, folks. It's a cigarette, or a chocolate chip cookie, or a five second orgasm. That's IT, okay? You come, you eat the cookie, you smoke the butt, you go to sleep, you get up in the morning and you go to fucking work. That’s IT, end of story. Yes, I do have a cynical view of life. Life that is divided up into the horrible and the miserable, the horrible would be like terminal cases, blind people, the crippled, and the miserable are everyone else. Oh, I do have a reason to be happy, but I don’t have enough reason to wear a smile everyday. I’m not Joker, damn it!
I do have dreams and aspirations yet I could choose to accept my life as it is now but there won’t be room for change now, wouldn’t it? I have a very good life, so I have nothing to complain about. Sometimes, I just have existential angst. And angst, anger and aggression is what fuels me everyday I step outside the house. Honestly, it doesn’t really matter to me if I bring everybody with I what I do, I get a kick at it anyway. Yes, I’m this cold, indifferent and calloused. Pain, guilt and everything negative can't be taken away with the wave of a magic wand. They're the things that we carry with us, they're the things that make us what we are. If we lose them, we lose ourselves. I don't want my angst taken away, I need my angst. It’s what fuels me to walk out of the house, board the bus, and piss off people with my cynicism. My soul is a cesspool, a rat filled dung heap of dog eared porn, rotten corpses and broken dreams. Screw optimism, you’ll be disappointed anyway. I’m not committing suicide for any god damn thing by the way. First of all, I owe my life to no one, I won’t risk my life even if it meant you getting hit by the bus. Second of all, it’s stupid and weak. Lastly, pissing off and bringing everyone down can be fun. My life is comprised of boredom and frustrations. But honestly, in my opinion, it makes for a great story.
If you’re reading this part, then god damn, I can’t believe you even read this crap.
first published: October 14, 2010 at 12:47am
Heroic journey? What a joke. What was I to write about or in my case, draw about? I was a never “hero” and no, I don’t plan to be. A hero is defined as: A. A mythological or legendary figure often of divine descent endowed with great strength or ability. B: an illustrious warrior. C: a man admired for his achievements and noble qualities. D: one that shows great courage. E. an object of extreme admiration and devotion. Now, I ask you do I fit those qualities? No, I change my mind, don’t answer that question. I’m not an archetypal hero, I’m not even an average teenager. I don’t live in an imaginary fairy-tale world or in a substance induced dream. I’m dead, gone and seldom seen. I’m trapped in the other side of life and continually attempt to find my way in a world in which I don’t think I really belong. I’m a cynic. I’m not one who merely reads bitter lessons from the past, I’m one who is prematurely disappointed with the future. Isolation from others is my defense mechanism and at times I use it as proof that I’m better than anyone else around me and that I’m above interacting with them. My cynicism too serves as a type of self-protection from everything and it’s the source of what little sanity remains in my life. I don't mean to sound bitter, cold, or cruel, but I am, so that's how it comes out.
Isolation, at times, is the cause of problems or aggravates it. I never address my own emotions directly nor do I attempt to forget the wrongdoings done to me. Now, some might say love, human contact and communication can solve everything, but my own protective wall of bitterness and cynicism prevents me from looking for such interaction. I depend on isolation to preserve my detachment from the world and to maintain a level of self protection, and I often sabotage my own attempt to end loneliness. Yes, both physical and emotional relationships may offer me the opportunity to break out my isolated shell. People are unpredictable and unappreciative, and it’s a challenge for me and at times, forces me to question my self confidence and self worth. Although I encounter opportunities for both physical and emotional intimacy, I screw it up and I wrap myself in a psychological armor of critical cynicism and bitterness. Not worth the time, money and effort as my perception would go. You need to trust people to be betrayed, I seldom did. Sometimes it’s better to be alone, I only feel alone when I’m with people. Sometimes I get the feeling the whole world is against me, but deep down I know that's not true. Some smaller countries are neutral. Oh yeah, going back, I don’t speak much, my opinion matters as much as the opinion of your neighbor’s pet rooster anyway.
“Phoniness” the catch-all for describing the superficiality, hypocrisy, pretension and shallowness for everything that I encounter in the world. It stands as an emblem for everything that’s wrong in the world around me and it provides an excuse for me to withdraw to my cynical isolation. People never notice anything. And they think everything’s all true. I play second banana to everyone, and usually the last priority or second to the last to be fair. But don’t worry I reserve my scorn for people who think they are something they are not or who refuse to acknowledge their own weaknesses. Take some people who are crazy about cars. They worry if they get a little scratch on them, and they're always talking about how many miles they get to a gallon, and if they get a brand-new car already they start thinking about trading it in for one that's even newer. I don't even like old cars. I mean they don't even interest me. What’s up with that, anyway? Am I bitter that they have more than I do? No. I’d take the bus, I’ll walk for the rest of my life if I have to. At least, I don’t worry about gas. Screw those rich materialistic bastards. Might as well screw everyone else. Get it inside your head that you are not special. You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake. You're the same decaying organic matter as everything else. Some people are alive only because it's illegal to kill them. .But the world is not as simple as one would think, for even I couldn’t adhere to the same black and white standards which I use to judge other people. Yes, I am a phony, I’m my own counterevidence. I'm the most terrific liar you ever met in your life. It's awful. If I'm on my way to the store to buy a magazine, even, and somebody asks me where I'm going, I'm liable to say I'm going to the opera. It's terrible. Lying is a form of phoniness, a type of deception that indicates insensitivity, callousness and even cruelty. Ironic thing is, I tend to refuse acknowledging my own shortcomings and I’m unwilling to consider how my behavior affect the people around me. They say happiness is a choice, so I’ll smile but I’m being phony that way. Nobody's happy forever. Happiness comes in small doses, folks. It's a cigarette, or a chocolate chip cookie, or a five second orgasm. That's IT, okay? You come, you eat the cookie, you smoke the butt, you go to sleep, you get up in the morning and you go to fucking work. That’s IT, end of story. Yes, I do have a cynical view of life. Life that is divided up into the horrible and the miserable, the horrible would be like terminal cases, blind people, the crippled, and the miserable are everyone else. Oh, I do have a reason to be happy, but I don’t have enough reason to wear a smile everyday. I’m not Joker, damn it!
I do have dreams and aspirations yet I could choose to accept my life as it is now but there won’t be room for change now, wouldn’t it? I have a very good life, so I have nothing to complain about. Sometimes, I just have existential angst. And angst, anger and aggression is what fuels me everyday I step outside the house. Honestly, it doesn’t really matter to me if I bring everybody with I what I do, I get a kick at it anyway. Yes, I’m this cold, indifferent and calloused. Pain, guilt and everything negative can't be taken away with the wave of a magic wand. They're the things that we carry with us, they're the things that make us what we are. If we lose them, we lose ourselves. I don't want my angst taken away, I need my angst. It’s what fuels me to walk out of the house, board the bus, and piss off people with my cynicism. My soul is a cesspool, a rat filled dung heap of dog eared porn, rotten corpses and broken dreams. Screw optimism, you’ll be disappointed anyway. I’m not committing suicide for any god damn thing by the way. First of all, I owe my life to no one, I won’t risk my life even if it meant you getting hit by the bus. Second of all, it’s stupid and weak. Lastly, pissing off and bringing everyone down can be fun. My life is comprised of boredom and frustrations. But honestly, in my opinion, it makes for a great story.
If you’re reading this part, then god damn, I can’t believe you even read this crap.
first published: October 14, 2010 at 12:47am
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