true love waits

had a bad dream last night. i know things are lousy when my dreams become more literal. in this one, i'm in my apartment. i hear the sound of footsteps approaching the door. i hear the sound of the door unlocking (which i haven't heard since the beginning of september). the door opens and in walks this caucasian man -- tall and handsome -- who sheepishly explains that he's here to collect c's things on her behalf.

interpret that however you will.

downward, downward, he spirals...! when will he stop...? how far can he go...? maybe he doesn't want to stop... maybe he doesn't want to "get over it"... maybe he doesn't want to pull the knife out -- maybe he wants to hold the knife deep inside of him until it becomes a part of him...

everybody's got the right to be happy...

mondays get worse and worse. there aren't many things worse than a monday after a long holiday weekend... except for the rest of my life at the moment...

the person i'm covering for today has got pictures of his little daughter all over his cubicle. this is one of the f'ugliest guys i've ever met and he's produced this adorable little creature. i used to have dreams of having kids (think about that and shiver), but maybe it's all overrated. kids, family, what's the use. maybe it's better if my blood expires with me.

good lord, i'm starting the day morbid...

unwanted

well, it's sunday morning and my mom just called to cancel her visit coz of the bad weather and the threat of holiday traffic. after i cleaned up the place and drenched everything in "air neutralizer".

it's okay. it just supports my theory that everyone abandons me, if given the opportunity.

if anyone has an umbrella and wants to drop by, i'll be chain-smoking in my apartment all day. (which is what i'll probably be doing christmas day.)

don't try to find me, don't try to pull me out

the apartment is still in a state of tragedy, but i think i'll be able to get it into a serviceable state by the time mother visits tomorrow. provided she doesn't cancel due to the weather.

thanksgiving was harder to get through than i expected. choked back tears at the dinner table.

"so, you have a girlfriend, malice?"

sad, sheepish, shamed smile. "no."

hard to not hear from her. i can only hope/assume she was with people who care about her.

i had the best 2 nights of sleep i've had in a while, sleeping in the guest bed. i don't know why. maybe because there were no distractions. no reminders. big comfortable bed. the quiet of jersey.

feel all rotten inside today. smoked too much, drank too much last night. need to be gentle on my system today. mustn't be too strung out for mom's visit tomorrow. have to pull myself together so my mom doesn't end up worrying as much as she should.

the thanks i get

i sit on my hands for weeks on end at the job, then two days before holiday -- HERE'S A BIG ASS PROJECT.

there are murmurrings that we get to leave early today. i think it is a part of being a permanent member of the happy corporate family.

well, i'm not going anywhere till this thing is done.

spending thxgiving in the foster home this year. maybe i'll sneak out the window in the middle of the night and join a local gang. tramps like me were born to run.

thanks for visiting my page today. happy holidays -- see you in hell!

hated monday

look who survived the weekend...

this one felt like a long bender. it's all a blur. i've got no idea what i am doing anymore.

one of many things i didn't manage to do this weekend was fix up the apartment. my mother will be visiting this coming sunday, and i have got to get that place in some kind of order. at the very least, hide the ashtrays and liquor bottles and air out the place. wouldn't want mother worrying, would i...?

3 days of work this week. thanx to the generosity of mista christofa, i'll have a place to crash for turkey day. (so i won't be home alone, watching "the deer hunter" and playing russian roullette... or russian hungry hungry hippos.)

well, hopefully the pre-thanksgiving work week will be a slow one. without hope, we have nothing.

thank fucking "god" it's friday

all i intend to consume today is scotch! no canned soup! no dinner buddies! scotch and motherfuckin cigarettes, motherfuckers! this is what i am talking about.

very special thanks to the honorable 6-Miles-from-Mexico for pointing me to this very funny page (that may be construed as *slightly* misogynistic toward the end).

speaking of scotch, i might need to actually venture outside into the mean world in order to get more booooze. does that not suck? weep for me. don't hold back. you know you want to. you'll feel better.

amidst all this wackiness, it turns out that i have a directing gig. i'm directing a scene from "death of a salesman" featuring the popular filipino-american actor erwin falcon. what possessed anyone to give me a directing gig in my state is beyond me. what willy loman is doing with a filipino son is also a mystery i will have to solve. but i am excited.

well, i'm sure i've lost half my audience just through the hyperlinks i've just posted here. all i can say in my defense is that i did not create any of these other websites, and erwin has very peculiar tastes... but i am not here to judge...

[BEST LINE FROM LAST NIGHT'S "APPRENTICE": "I am constantly reminded that no one is my friend..." Ya got that right, baby!]

parathon

one last gasp before i can claim victory over another work week. 20 good minutes to throw away before i can begin the ritualistic weekend bender. what i weekend i haven't planned! if you only knew... then you could warn me...

my crypto-blather grows more and more incomprehensible by the minute... no longer even decipherable by myself...

keep yourself safe tonight.

when i'm god, everyone dies!!

i went to god just to see
and i was looking at me
saw heaven and hell were lies
when i'm god, every dies

scar/ can you feel my power
shoot here and the world gets smaller
scar/ scar/ can you feel my power
one shot and the world gets smaller...!


last day on the hook for the week. unhook me and let me descend.

therapy sucked last night. it's probably good i've just got one more visit with that person. why is it so difficult to find someone real in this world? to quote the movie "gothika": "you can't trust someone when they think you're crazy..."

dinner with unkle burn burn was good. always good to talk to, that one. always good for getting a little perspective in a storm. he and i are going to be starting a punk rock band called the Neo Orphans. (our more extreme moniker is "the everlasting cock-blockers".) we just need someone to learn us to play our guitars.

i am so far gone, i don't know who i am anymore.

i am an ex.

an ex-person. an ex-human.

i am so destroyed, i have become something else. something beyond death. something hatefully, hatefully new.

i am your shit... you should be ashamed of what you have eaten...

sleep deeply, my pretties. i'll see you when you close your eyes tonight.

let's make the most of this beautiful day

the days get darker and darker, do they not, silent readers?

today has taken a great effort to get through. i had a decent nip of scotch last night and i paid for it today. i could have used a lot more sleep than i got. i really wanted to take a nap today. instead, i have been fighting to keep my eyes open.

leaving a few minutes early today, to visit my new therapist. after tonight, i have one more visit with her, so i hope she can solve all my problems in the remaining 2 hours. i think that this is a reasonable request.

after the shrink, i'm having dinner with my new best friend, uncle burnt-out. so far, he has refused to give me the answers to my problems, but perhaps if i can ply him with enough alcohol he'll open up. i believe this is a reasonable strategy.

i can't believe i'm going to turn 29 in january. i feel like i ought to be turning 50. perhaps i can request to skip a few years, on the basis of a tarnished soul.

well, there's still a ways to go before january arrives. what are the odds i'll make it?

i'll try to remember to leave a parting message before i go. i wouldn't want to leave you in suspense. i am very considerate in that manner.

dying old

hi again, silent readers. it's malice, 25 minutes from his escape from butcher bay. daydreaming about going home. deafeningly empty home that it is.

sipping some scotch.

firing up the old projector to watch a few netflix movies on my wall.

answering my fan mail in a ripe stupor.

home. my safe place. my concrete prison. i cannot get there fast enough.

boy, you people were quiet today. i expect you to remedy that overnight, while your busy lives quiet down and while my quiet life dulls into blissful inebriation.

sweet dreams, shy readers. don't let the bed ghost keep you up tonight...

dying young

hullo, fearless readers. welcome to another thrilling installment of "malice's mental breakdown"! buckle your bloody belts... i said BUCKLE THEM!!

much busier today, than yesterday. i am on assignment, as it were. but never too busy to squeeze in an update to this lousy fucking blog!

just cleared up a payment error on the cable bill today. i've been trying to sort it out for the past week, it's been an absolute terror. the last thing i need right now is to get my cable cut off. it's one of the few things that's keeping me going! (with no offense to the friends who have been showering me with moral support, and so forth...)

firming up the deal for my thanksgiving in jersey, which just got a green light. it has come to this. spending the holidays in foster homes. are you envious? (admit it... you aren't...)

i've got a good 4 hours left on today. subtract an hour for lunch, etc., and it starts to look more manageable. what a fulfilling life i lead.

no concrete play-dates with friends scheduled for this week so far. i figure i'll continue to mop the blood and cigarette butts off the floor of my apartment, in anticipation of my mom's visit/inspection. i'll have to do some serious de-odorizing to stifle the cigarette aroma. hide those ashtrays. if my mom suspects anything, i'll say that my friends smoke. when in doubt, blame your friends.

it's harder and harder to remember what it was like to feel happy. like forgetting someone's face...

the fun never begins

well, look who's facing another work week.

(chorus: who is it? who could it be???)

you guessed it -- it's your favorite manic-depressive CGI personality, M. Alice, staring back at you with his dead, soulless eyes.

special shout out to merillon and jgoose -- who i hear occasionally reads this from her work desk. as appreciative as i am of the people who actually comment, it's always encouraging to know that there are more of you who silently read these uncomfortably candid bottled-messages that i float out into the virtual sea.

of course, special "props" to the more vocal parishioners. the overworked burnsy, professor nick-opoly, the notorious m.u.i., and the irrepressible 6mx (who i really don't know in the real world).

i'm aware of a handful of other friends (and perhaps enemies?) who may occassionally check in on this lonely bulletin board, but otherwise you could safely attribute well over half the "hits" on my growing hit-counter to me refreshing my own page at work and at home. sad? most definitely. the saddest thing i do on a regular basis? it doesn't even begin to scratch the surface.

i'm in the process of weighing generous thanksgiving offers from friends. right now, it looks like i may be spending the day at christofa's house, deep in "homophobic-and-lovin-it" jersey. but as i've said, i have standing offers from many of you. (and i suspect at least some of those offers weren't facetious.)

the good news: i'm still alive.

the bad news: i'm still alive...

(voices in malice's head: you should have killed us when you had the chance!)

trivia: ian mckellan does the voiceovers for my demons.

warning for those who've received xmas gifts from me in past years: i may not be so generous this year, for reasons i hope you will understand. if you don't understand, please read through some of my archived posts. if you still don't understand, go fuck yourself.

(chorus: how rude! our sympathy is definitely beginning to wane!)

(voices in malice's head: you're losing the plot, old boy! you mustn't erode your support base in such a public forum! how else will we be able to raise funds for our Doomsday Machine? will you discard our dreams so cavalierly?)

(chorus: "DOOMSDAY MACHINE"?! that doesn't sound good at all!)

(voices in malice's head: oh, did we say 'doomsday machine'? we meant to say 'Snoopy Sno-Cone Making Machine'... w-we want to make artificially flavoured "snowed"-cones for all our generously concerned supporters...)

(chorus: we clearly read "Doomsday Machine"... we are becoming alienated and creeped out...)

[voices in malice's head retreat further into malice's subconsciousness.]

Bad Company (epilogue)

tick tock tick tock!

i've survived the work week/day. now it's just a matter of waiting out the war...

40 minutes. an eternity.

plan my exit. hop the 1,2,3 or 9 train up town to meet my mate merillon, for a few pints of alcoholic oblivion. this may have ended up the worst year of my fucking life, but it doesn't mean i have to be conscious or sober for the remainder of it. (SUCK ON *THAT*, "GOD"!)

this blog is a lot darker without all the bright pictures. (and, you know, with the increasingly grim content and all...)

either people are too busy or too scared to leave comments here today. i dare you to leave a comment. bring it. the fuck. on.

aren't you all fucking elated that i've returned to writing this masturbatory -- and startlingly thorough -- account of my existenzzz? are you not creaming your fucking diapers?!? are you not smearing-shit-on-your-cell-walls MAD with goddamn, jubilant, ejaculatory, orgiastic, fan-fucking-tastic joy that i have returned to this dumping ground of a soap box? to scream hullo into the rapidy blossoming abyss?

Bad Company (episode 3)

aren't you fortunate, to be able to spend the day with me via the magic of BLOG? well, we're on the final stretch here. orange you eggsited?

got back from a cleaning at the dentist. all that flossing has paid off in spades. i am a good boy. i am a very, very good boy. everything is falling in line with my master plan...

[i intend to have an "open coffin" funeral. i'd like to have my face frozen in a "joker"-like grin to show off my teeth as my corpse lies in the casket. must remember to discuss this possibility with my mortician.]

about 2 and 1/2 hours to go before i can kick this work week to the fuckin' curb. this part of the day is usually cake. i've got my backup here if the shit gets heavy, but it doesn't look like it's gonna get heavy today. i should be thankful for such a relatively serene week at work. i should be thankful that i'm employed, and have health benefits. i should be thankful that i have no cavities (besides the one where my heart used to be).

yet the Ghost of Malice^(r) is thankful for nothing...

Bad Company (episode 2)

hello, reinforcements!

a little more busy than yesterday, but still miraculously quiet. i wonder if the analysts are steering clear of me because they smell the stench of death on me. good. they should stay away, like everyone else. i will bring pestilence upon them and their kind.

now, off to a dental appointment...

bad company (episode 1)

now is the killing time. right after my mourning smoke break. two and a half hours before the cavalry are scheduled to arrive. 2.5 hours to protect the fort on my own, with limited ammo.

the attacks haven't been heavy thus far, but that can change in a heartbeat. somebody with an unreasonable deadline. a document that is corrupt or "customized". an analyst with ants in his pants.

the plus side is that the i-bankers have to eat, and the lunching hours fall in the time frame i've got left. they've got to feed their nasty itches before all the fish logs are gone in the cafeteria. eat your fucking tartar sauce, you fools! by the time you get back, my men will be here to wipe you out!!

i am so alone...

bad company (prologue)

one more day. about 9 more hours.

location is everything, however, and today i am sitting in a place where i am destined to be bombarded with work until 2pm, when the reinforcements arrive. (usually, i'm covering for one person, but i'm covering for 2 today...)

5 hours to scrape through before 2nd shift arrives and i get some help.

i can subtract twenty minutes for a smoke break. some extended bathroom breaks. a little hiding beneath my desk.

i can run, but i can't hide.

here's praying for a mercifully light 5 hours... thinking short term now... just get me through the work day... get me through this work week and i can lose myself for the weekend... this is my prayer... amen.

fool (epilogue)

15 minutes to go on my day and i did *NOTHING*.

I did two little jobs. A sum total of less than half an hour of work -- perhaps less than 20 minutes of work -- in a 10 hour work day.

I could have clocked in this mourning, gone back home, then come back to the office to clock out. Instead, I've been sitting here like a sucker, revisiting the same 5 websites over and over again.

Sure, I could have made a few phone calls and gotten some work on my desk. But for what? It's the same money, whether I've got investment bankers breathing down my neck or whether I'm just reading poorly written reviews on "Aint-It-Cool"...

fool

nobody likes you
everyone's left you
they're all out without you
having fun...
green day

2 more days of work to suffer through before i can scurry back into my hole.

2 days. 19 hours of sitting here. quietly reflecting on the ruins of my life. waiting for people to reply to 3 page e-mails i've written them. (what are all you people doing..? LIVING YOUR LIVES?!?)

a few weeks ago, i reluctantly agreed to travel across state borders this saturday to play paintball with coworkers. a bonding experience. i don't think handing me a gun right now is a good idea, even if it's filled with paint. anyway, i tried to see if i could back out yesterday and i think i helped kill the whole trip.

(i was told that a lot of people were backing out, but i like to think that i'm responsible for killing the day.)

so tired. just get me through today and tomorrow and i can lose myself for another weekend...

and all that could have been...

i am getting a divorce.

i am losing the love of my life.

i have been going through hell.

i am scared. i am dying inside.

having very bad thoughts. stupid thoughts.

if you know me, i need help. everything is wrong. please help me. i have no idea how anyone can help me now.

a country i don't recognize anymore

went to vote after work yesterday, at my old address. i was all prepared for a long wait, but i was done in twenty minutes and had a smoke at the edge of the park.

of course, all for nothing.

kerry conceded. four more years that this country will have to pay for -- in money and blood -- for decades to come. hooray for democracy.

i might make a new head for this blog this weekend, unless something horrible happens.

it is a terrible day for america. i just hope the inevitable protests shake the bedrock enough to emphasize how divided this country is. it sickens me to hear the republicans talk about what a clear victory it's been for them -- i think the only thing that's clear is how torn this country is.

fuck the healing. it's civil war, people...

(here's a nice article from msnbc to console the non-idiotic half of this country.)

thanks(fornothing)giving

is it november already? what a criminal world. i'll be sure to replace my "election" logo before the week is out. i'm sick of seeing bush's monkey-ish mug on my page. if everyone goes out to vote, hopefully i won't be seeing him on my television much longer either.

due to various scheduling/financial issues, there is a chance i won't be seeing any of my family this christmas. christmas alone in the repulsive heart of new york city. i have a hard time envisioning a more singularly depressing thought than this.

am i cheering anyone up yet? i exist to make you feel better about your own life.

a little less than an hour to go here before i can scurry home to my lovely bottle of scotch. o!, happy mondays...