more important things than "winning"

Consolation Victories (for Non-Winners):
"At least I'm still here."
"At least I've got my health."
"At least my morals are intact."
"At least my parents aren't alive to see this."
"At least I won't feel anything."
"At least we never had kids."
"At least I've got 'Christ'."
"At least no one's the boss of me."
"At least I've got my poems."
"At least I'm not like THAT guy."

big political work upheavals at the pepper mill. too cumbersome to relate fully. suffice it to say, i inadvertently lost a position that i'd been vying for this past year and a half. perhaps i hadn't been clear or vocal enough about my interest. now i know how Letterman must have felt when they gave The Tonight Show to Leno. yep, my situation's exactly like that.

well, it's okay because otherwise this year has been a massive winning streak for me...

good thing i don't like filipinas. (note how much filipinas sound like the hulk.)

so long, august. and thanks for all the fish.

appetite for destruction

here was a contest to create images of natural/unnatural disasters.

labor day weekend approaches. the anniversary of the day my world started to come apart. i might attempt to mount a recreation of that weekend.

and now for something less controversial, check out BUSH's amazing numbers. the pride is back.

pine box blues

this totally felt like a day i could call in sick. a day i could use an extra 12 hours of sleep, intermittently waking up to watch a JUDGE JOE BROWN verdict. alas, i was "good" and got myself to "work". i can take one or two more sick days this year before i get "talked to", so they need to be worth it.

my Fortress of Solitude is looking scarier and scarier as I begin the process of dismantling it. it's an unholy undertaking, but it'll be good to get rid of things. i love constantly existing on the precipice of homelessness. i love the rent in this godforsaken city. i love that it's so unaffordable on so many levels. it's cool, though, coz we're all stinking rich right?

[AUDIENCE LAUGHS / APPLAUDS AT THE POINTED SARCASM. PERHAPS THEY JUST LAUGH TO BREAK THE DEAFININGLY AWKWARD SILENCE. PERHAPS THEY LAUGH MERELY BECAUSE IT IS FUN TO LAUGH.]

watched the entirety of SIX FEET UNDER season 1 this weekend, courtesy of merillon. as with many cultural phenoms, i'm getting into this one late. just four more seasons to get through and it's over. fortunately, netflix is slow as shit.

fuck mondays.

thank you (fallettin me be mice elf again)

is it thursday again so soon? how time flies when you're swallowing your pride!

what morbid ruminations can i share with my voyeuristic readership today? slow down for the train wreck; don't be ashamed to rubber your necks! you might see some desecrated corpses amidst the heavy metal destruction -- and wouldn't *that* be worth the traffic jam?

female korean bartender:hey, don't joke about that...! my grandfather died in a train wreck!

malice (drunk):really? how long did he know andy dick?

[cue rimshot--badabing!]

thank you, ladies and germs, now that i've alienated & confused everyone except The MeowKing, let's start the blog entry...

last night's discovery: pernod (absinthe minus wormwood) tastes uncomfortably like NYQUIL. as soon as i had this realization, it became a lot harder to finish the pint glass i'd poured myself. and then it felt like i had bull ants crawling on the inside of my skull, stinging and slicing through gray matter with their powerful jaws. but i can't be sure that was the green faerie or just the run-of-the-mill paranoia+depression that i usually feel around midnight. ha ha.

now bugger off. i want to be trapped with my horrible thoughts for a dozen hours or so.

this is the worst trip i've ever been on

congratulations to The MeowKing for effectively ending a chapter in his book of dreams. a great burden has been lifted, i'm certain. now what?

eff rico.

one thing at a time. i'm going to start to pack books. maybe start to dismantle certain things in the fortress of solitude. so many things i just can't take with me where i'm going. i can't think of meaning or emotions. none of it means anything anymore. everything is for sale. nothing is sacred in this world. least of all, life.

happy hump day! [insert honking sound]

no-friends revolution

i've had a strait-jacket weekend. if this isn't obvious. coming up on the anniversary of the black day. i'm talking about labor day weekend, not 9/11. this time of year is going to be ruined for me for a while. but beyond dwelling on this, i'm faced with the daunting task of packing up my home. never fun, but made worse by the need to sort out what's mine from what's... not mine. and try to sell off the shit i just can't take with me.

this year has been an awe-inspiring disaster. i reflect on friends i've lost. i'm a realist and understand that it's part of the game, no matter how generous i've been toward certain people during my time with them. a line is drawn in the sand - and at a certain point you've got to choose your side. (with a few bold exceptions who do their best to play switzerland.)

i wish somebody could understand how difficult this has been. how brutally thankless it's been. but i've still got hell to pay before i can get on with things. what a world of shit i've inherited.

autumn's coming. time to sweep up the dead leaves and prepare for some bitter hours.

i never thought you'd be a junkie because heroin is so passé

don't you love saturday nights?

i don't. i used to. not really. what day is it?

i'm blogging on a saturday night. fucking sue me. bring it on. wax on wax off. gloves off. just like the old days.

today was a bomb. a big, blackened, home-levelling bomb. air sucked, backdraft colored ceilings. but it's okay coz nobody knows i'm here.

august 20? are you fucking kidding me?

jesus, when does this end...

megalomelancholia

"I believe the common character of the universe is not harmony, but hostility, chaos and murder."
Werner Herzog

My buddy Son of the Mourning is on a plane back to wherever the hell he hails from. We had a good time doing things he'll probably want to repress. Malice Highload a bad influence? NEVER!

Now that I've got no distractions, it's time to waste a lot more time...

Ha ha.

No, trying to get my "life" together. Herewith is a list of projects I'd like to get completed before the year is dead. I'm not usually so bold or sharing about these things, but I'm just trying to get in the game here...

In no particular order, per se:

"The Chance Meeting on a Dissecting Table
of a Sewing Machine and an Umbrella"
(animated short)
"The Butcherhouse Chronicles"
(screenplay)
"All Goodbyes Should Be Sudden"
(play)
"Chinadoll Overdrive"
(play)
various unidentified short films
untitled documentary

Listen, you fuckers, you screwheads. Here is a man who would not take it anymore. A man who stood up against the scum, the cunts, the dogs, the filth, the shit. Here is a man who stood up.

You're only as healthy as you feel.

nihilistic delusions

merillon (back from honeymoon with jgoose) turned my attention to the strange case of

Cotard's Syndrome:
A syndrome of mental depression and suicidal tendencies, in which the patient complains of having lost everything: possessions, part of or entire body, often believing that he or she has died and is a walking corpse. This delusion is usually expanded to the degree that the patient might claim that he can smell his own rotting flesh and feel worms crawling through his skin. The latter phenomenon is a recurring experience of people chronically deprived of sleep or suffering amphetamine/cocaine psychosis. Paradoxically, being "dead" often gives the patient the nation of being immortal. Other megalomelancholic ideas may be present.

This will be good to know the next time I want to call out sick. There are so many fascinating mental disorders, it's hard to pick just one.

I've been contemplating my general world view lately and, arguably, according to this wikipedia entry, I may fall into the category of "mistaken misanthrope" rather than "genuine misanthrope". There is the fine line between philosophical pessimism and misanthropy.

Merriam-Webster defines misanthropy as "a hatred or distrust of mankind". I think the "distrust" aspect is what really informs how I navigate my life. I have some trust issues. God only knows why... God as well as everybody who's fucking betrayed me...!

However, I'm not about to change the name of this site to "Philosophical Pessimism Central". I think I vascillate back and forth between mistaken misanthrope and genuine misanthrope. Depending on the time of day, the direction of the wind, and that peculiar light in your eyes...

So now you know!!!

searching for savage steve holland

Why are there no fan pages dedicated to Savage Steve Holland?

He directed three feature films. "Better Off Dead", "One Crazy Summer" and "How I Got Into College". They combined live action and whimsical little animated bits. He was the bizarro John Hughes of his time. And then what happened?

IMDB tells us that he's taken a long detour into TV. In terms of fan sites, the best I could find was this "EEK! The Cat" fansite. There is this curt wikipedia entry that says he manages his own studio called "Savage Studios", but either it doesn't exist any longer or it hasn't gotten around to creating a website.

John Hughes walked down damnation lane creating a slew of increasingly worthless kids movies. Is this where iconic 80s directors end up?

I realize I may be alone in arguing for the underappreciated genius of a man who many might say only directed one good movie in his life, but i remember loving ONE CRAZY SUMMER when I was a kid. and when i was 13, i even remember liking HOW I GOT INTO COLLEGE (arguably the toughest sell of his oeuvre). but you just can't dispute the sheer brilliance of BETTER OFF DEAD. There aren't that many people who could pull off a comedy about a suicidal teenager that includes traditional animation *and* claymation. In 1985.

If I could make ONE movie in my life with that much audacity... well, I won't be content with that, but it'd be better than nothing.

du hast mich

bitte Entschuldigung mein grober Deutscher. es ist eine lange Zeit gewesen. ich habe ein verrücktes Wochenende gehabt und meinen Freund (Sohn des Morgens) unterhalten, der in der Stadt von Texas ist. er ist mehr hardcore, als ich mich vorgestellt haben könnte. ich habe ihn gezwungen, mit mir und MEOWKING und BURNO heraus zu hängen, obwohl er irgendwie wie ihnen scheint. er ist hier für gerade einige mehr Tage, aber ich werde festgestellt, um ihm eine gute Zeit zu zeigen. bevor ich zurück in meine Bohrung krieche und sterbe. ich bin ein outcast.

schizophrenia

Nobody knows me. When I die (January 2, 2006), no one will have known the person that will be rendered into ashes. It is a strange thing to imagine, though I imagine it happens to a great many people. However, when I rise from the ashes and become a spirit of vengeance (January 8, 2007), all will know my name...

MALICE.

I guess everyone has masks that they wear. But what if there's nothing beneath the mask...? What if there's nothing there at all...?

Have a super weekend, y'all!

malice is an asshole

after a series of fairly innocuous entries, my last few have been a little more blunt. yes, it's true, sara -- i am an asshole. we all have our buttons to be pushed. (mine are: Up, Up, Down, Down, Left, Right, Left, Right, B, A, Start.) i suppose certain sights and sounds i've been exposed to in the past week have triggered malevolent thoughts related to the world we live in, and my life in general. though i try to be careful, i find this blog works better the less i censor myself. even though it may make it tougher to read for some. (you know who you fucking are.) i don't think it's any kind of secret that i've had a lousy fucking year. and when someone hurts me, i'm sometimes a little too zealous in trying to be hurtful in return. it is difficult being the son of evil.

regardless, it's no excuse. my sincere apologies to sara for being mean. i'm an insensitive jerk. tell spin-doctor burno not to beat me up. or just tell him to go for it, maybe it'll be neat.

for laughs, here's a list of notable people who've died of lung cancer. i hope to join this illustrious company one day. soon. for the good of humanity.

Peter Jennings Has a Posse

P.J. quit smoking 20 YEARS AGO. dead at 67.

reports say he was surrounded by loved ones at the end. i'll probably be surrounded by cats when i expire. (if i'm lucky.) i'll ask one of my friends to tell my family that i got hit by a car or something.

anyway, in honor of peter jennings's death and the increased media coverage of the lung cancer death toll that it's brought, in addition to the chest pains i've been quietly suffering this past week, i'm cutting back on my smoking. i'm not committed to quitting just yet, but smoking less is probably better than not doing anything. i don't necessarily aspire to have a longer life (the way things have gone so far, i'm not expecting a happily ever after), but i'm trying not to worsen my current quality of life. how's that for an inspirational message?

wow, this fucking blog just gets cheerier and cheerier as the days go on, dudn't it?

wallflower

just when i think i'm all evened out, i get reminded how profoundly fucked i am. nothing like a wedding weekend to reinforce how alone you are in this fucking gift of a world. you'd think i'd be used to it by now, but what's with ev-er-y friend of mine having a significant other? i mean, god love 'em (big imaginary god), and i ain't gonna begrudge anyone their happiness, but it's a bit absurd isn't it? like an extended gag? ashton kusher hiding in the bushes, making everyone kiss each other in front of me, just waiting for me to lose it so that he can get his cocksucking money shot.

not trying to be rude or an ingrate. it was a beautiful ceremony and lovely reception, and i got a cd signed by the original drummer of SKID ROW, and it was all exceptionally picturesque, and it was nice to see my friends all shiny and happy, but i felt like the hunchback being invited to the king's banquet. when's it malice's turn to reenter the living world?

indulge me in my cryptograms here, but i might get a clearer image by the end of this week. an early spring or six more weeks of winter. maybe another year of winter. maybe i've seen the last of the sun altogether.

i'm not really as gloomy as this entry might imply. i'm much, much worse. the rabbit-hole is an endless abyss, and malice hasn't even begun his adventure. sooner or later, he's going to meet the ground again, and it won't be gentle.

she-devil

[with all due respect, i strongly suggest JGOOSE & MERILLON not read today's entry of the misanthropist. it's not for you. please go away.]

because i feel i can no longer talk openly about my own troubles on my own fucking blog, let me offer my symapthies to the mysteriously named MeowKing and his current spate of worries. divorce is difficult enough as it is without it becoming the messy sort. you grow to love and trust someone. you let them into your home. you cook them nice meals. you share your hopes and dreams. you expose your vulnerabilities. and then... EL BLAMMO!

wake up, it's time to die!

maybe marriage is an outdated institution with warped implications that is just falling apart at the seams faster than it can be stitched back together. i've fought hard not to be one of those guys who goes through a bad breakup and suddenly finds fault in everyone else's relationships, and i'm not really talking about loving relationships. i'm talking about an institution. sure, there are plenty of people with "successful" marriages, but they just seem to be the rarer exceptions. the anomalies.

i'd like to reinforce the fact that this isn't directed at any of my friends who are about to make this commitment. and if you happen to be one of these friends and are still reading this, i implore you to stop right now and read some of the funny comic strips on this page.

the thing of it is, it seems to me that the best way to doom a relationship is to get married. it's like some sort of fucking hex. and some people manage to dispel the hex, but it's some strong fucking voodoo, and it can bring out the worst in people. and you might think you've already seen the worst, but there's plenty more where that came from -- and from places you never knew existed -- and it's toxic and it's volatile and it glows in the dark. there's just too much tied up in the deep-rooted psychology of the institution, and it can really do a number on someone. if not you, then your partner. if not now, then tomorrow. or the day after tomorrow. or three years from now. or tonight, at 8 o'clock.

but if you're one of the rare unicorn people that can dispel the hex, then more power to you. maybe you can teach me your magic. i'll be drinking at the MeowkPit this evening.

the wedding and the cold case

at nights, i've been busy trying to finish a special project for JGOOSE n' MERILLON's wedding this weekend. as usual, because of the nature of the internet, i can't say anything more specific than that it involves an old unsolved mystery for Merillon.

i came up with the idea on sunday and i thought i could get it done easily, but it's going to be a challenge. i'm making fairly significant strides each night, but i've got to get a lot done tonight if i'm going to have it done for saturday. it certainly helps that i'm not doing overtime tonight, but i really can't waste any time when i get home. (and i'm a jedi at wasting time.)

but i think it'll be cool. and i'm not entirely satisfied with the "official" gift i got them off their registry.

i lead an empty existence.

in your dreams, show no mercy

You’re sorta stuck where you are
But, in your dreams you can buy expensive cars,
Or live on mars
And have it your way...

And you hate your boss at your job...
Well in your dreams you can blow his head off...
In your dreams
Show no mercy...

And all your bad days will end...!
And all your bad days will end...!
You have to sleep late when you can...!
And all your bad days will end!!!
-The Flaming Lips

nix the overtime hours for wednesday. someone else called dibs on them before i did, so i'm off the hook. as much as i could use the money, i'm relieved. 16 hours sitting at a desk, doing what i do: it's diabolical.

instead, i shall retreat to my cave and tinker with my secret machines.

TRUE! --nervous --very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses --not destroyed --not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell...

vote for me and all your wildest dreams will come true

i finally watched NAPOLEON DYNAMITE yesterday, on cable. after some highly mixed reactions from friends who've seen it, i declare the movie...

[insert 3 minute commercial break]

... i declare the movie... awesome.

in other news, malice is B.R.O.K.E. till the next payday, in a week and a half. (in case any muggers are reading this, i won't have much cash on me during this timeframe -- so if you DO want to get my money, i'm gonna make you use that gun...)

because of my unfortunate state, i have agreed to do overtime this wednesday. 8am to 12 midnight. ouch. that's gonna... oh, what's the phrase i'm looking for... "suck shit"? that is gonna fucking suck shit. hmm... a bit artless, perhaps, but it conveys the idea. print it.

i had one of those weekends where i kept having to run to an ATM because i kept running out of money. (no, we weren't at a strip joint... a strip joint would have been too heterosexual for us...)

MERILLON and JGOOSE are tying the knot this coming weekend. i'll be living like a monk till then. but come this weekend... it's youth gone wild...