ruthless yellow bastard.

i wonder sometimes if ANYONE is perceptive enough to go "why in the fuk is this blog called 'nullibicity'? i'm not gunna front, i myself looked at it tonight and was like "fuk. what does that mean again?"... so i looked it up... then it all came back. nullibicity is considered an 'obscure' word. whatever the fuk that means... it's literal definition is "the state or condition of existing nowhere", not like stagnation. it's different. it's actually a noun. thus describing 'nowhere' as a place.., but the word was argued as being arbitrary, for lacking location entailed lacking existence, and nothing exists that is non extended. get it? well, i don't want to make you think too hard about it, god forbid. but i have to say, i fuking love that word. it got me thinking a little bit about my current state of mind/ life. if something doesn't change in my life, i will be in a state of nullibicity. what good is it for me to create, when it goes unnoticed? if i'm in isolation, how does anybody know i exist? you know, shit like that. i guess i thought at one point or another, things would just work out and it went that way for a long time. it's different now. our culture is different. times have changed, friends have grown up, potential has been sold out to consumerism, substance is no longer a virtue, action has phased out into light dinner party talk.., it's fuk over your friends, judge thy neighbor, cheat on your husband or wife, call your mom on mother's day. it's all fuking shit. all of it. and here i sit wondering.. how much longer can i hold out before i break? cauz the way things are looking, eventually u break. i already getting a bit too fucking comfortable with my own company. yeah, i kinda prefer it to this freak show people refer to as normal. irony is amazing, but i'm sure that too can only take me so far. this is not a way to live. for me at least. so what now? should i say 'fuk it', sell off my shit, which i'm doing anyway cauz our great empire hath fallen, and move out of the country? i dunno. i wanna. i'm over this rant.

i zig. u zag.

most people front about principle. bringing to the table a lot of talk, followed by little to no action... and that's ok. it's what kids/ people do. they try things. they go through phases. they invent causes to rebel against. but, for the record, i myself, don't wanna fight. it's a god damn hassle, not to mention emotionally exhausting and isolating, going against the grain of the system. believe me, i would be absolutely content with .... errrr.. content? but if you do not, wait.., if you simply cannot work with this system.. well, not only does it not work for you, it kicks you while you're down..., it does it's damned hardest to filter you through some sort of process, that eventually breaks you... and in a battlefield of life, ain't nuth'n sadder than the sight of an amputated spirit. i see potential die every fuking day man.. people just standing around, dicks in their hands, just pissing into the wind.

i'm no rebellious kid, experimenting cauz i'm curious, i'm a fuking adult, that is really starting to fully understand what it means being the minority, struggling because of my principles that cannot be bought by money, stability, etc. etc. nor do i have ANY desire to be lured with this bullshit they call the "american dream". american dream is nothing more than a fuking flavor of ben & jerry's ice cream to me. it is a damn good flavor though. ummm.. YEAH, i do contemplate all the time, ALL THE TIME, going another direction, who doesn't think about living a life that doesn't remotely resemble their own? but in the end, your principles, wrong or right, is all you have... and when i'm no longer apart of this blip we call life, i wanna make sure the fingerprint i leave in this life is fuking intact. there is no right way. it doesn't fuking matter, until your way is deemed wrong, oh god, then u deal with assholes dishing out what's "right", it's so fuking dumb. and people just don't fuking get it.. with capitalism, it's all about money... and when it's all about money, it's never about the people. i'm struggling, hard.., and that's so fuking dumb if u think about it.. struggling for no fuking reason.., not by choice, or curiosity, but for having the capacity to zig while everybody else robotically zags. dig? ...

whatever

the funny thing is.., if you chased after me, it really wouldn't be worth it in the long run. i've trained disappointment to trick my brain into turning that feeling into a form of ironic joy. i know no other way... and i'm okay with that. for i'm not normal, and thank fucking god. thank whatever for the fact that i'm not as beige as 99% of all of you. it's not a fuking easy life. in fact, i've become quite fond of the word 'martyr', and no longer look at it as a negative, but more as a "i'm fuking different enough to sacrifice what you wouldn't, for a bigger belief.", type thing. i have to, otherwise the gravity of the lifestyle would kill me instantly. yeah, it looks easy on words, but you do it, then come back to me, and we'll talk. nobody ever does. it's too bad. i think? haha.
and... yeah, i'm fuking angry. i'm fuking pissed. someone should be aware when the empire falls. well.. i suppose if i was one of you fuks, with your 'stability' and work ethic, i'd walk around with capitalistic blindness as well..., but i'm not.. and i don't judge you for it. i think it's admirable. it looks like a quality that i feel if i possessed..., it would make my life a lot easier..., but i don't know why i'm still shocked that all of you assholes so effortlessly project your lameness as judgement on me. you'll never do anything grand anyway and that's restitution to someone like me.
the stupid thing about being human is.. i really wish you'd chase after me. do something crazy... something that feels uncertain. hmmph, my starvation and poverty has got this brain daydreaming again.

the room maintains life.

yet the room continues to maintain life.
even though it looks and feels vacant inside.
all the windows are cracked and broken,
serving as visual representations of what we would rather not remember.
never shall we part.
mounds of fur and regurgitated food sit silently on the windowsill.
yet the room continues to maintain life.
it's what has been swept under the rug that pollutes the void now.
laying slightly dormant under the skin,
itching just enough for attention.
never shall we part.
now there's a lifetime that echos inside my mind.
the room wasn't always this color,
and the life that is maintained, isn't from us.
the blackest of hills forever loom within that distance.
always are we apart.
time regulated and money calculated.
the emptiness seems so deliberate,
as the abandonment is so apparent.
bound to me for an eternity,
i've tried this room on before.
slipping out of it like dresses that i don't ever wear.

individualism just becomes immune.

immune to emotions. immune to the constant let down that is the daily grind of life, that eventually, you have to succumb to, due to numerous reasons that defy everything you call 'principle'.

that huge abyss of a void, you hopelessly search to fill, that also served as some kind of a driving, mystery force, in your romanticized youth, just turns out later in life to be a progress seizing, stagnant, permanent canyon of defeat, once you come to the realization of, 'oh fuk, there's nothing that's ever gunna fill it, no matter how i change it up'...., yep. immune.

numb to the two split paths of, 'be the individual who refuses to succumb, stuck on principle, isolating yourself from the comforts the robots get, thus making you jaded,' or 'be the cookie cutter slave robot, suspended in a shallow state of common, numb happiness, that sprouts from some notion of getting it together and making payments on things you don't need, lacking almost all capacity to be empathetic and selfless'...

it's a tough call. oh well, at least i can always rely on my sunny disposition.

a lil place i like to call "stagnation land"

yeah. so let me tell you about 'stagnation land' aka emotional purgatory, but without the emotions? eh, that makes no literal sense. it's the place that i've been stuck on for.. who fuking knows, because it's stagnation. you see, it's worse than depression. depression serves a bit more purpose. like, i may write a shitty song or two out of 'tragic depression'. make some kool art. do some 'life reevaluating" self-loathing. fuk'n some bullshit like that, right. but, noooo, no, my friends, stagnation land is that hellish place that one lingers in, where 'you're not reallllly depressed, but not quite happy', where you think shit like, 'maybe i should move, but if i move than blah blah, maybe it's not the location, it's me? but blah blah'. it's the fuk'n desert/ arctic, bipolar tundra bar, that you can endlessly, without point, walk into and have 30 lifetime drinks with your good pal, 'complete lack of inspiration'.. and talk about shit that's neither 'here nor there', and about 'how nobody does anything, how so and so's changed, and remember the good old days..' .. that kind of excellent, endless, pointless conversation, that changes nothing and YET goes on cyclically for a boring eternity. it's a place of, 'there's no such thing as too much', drug consuming, followed by rants about 'principle' and 'should've, could've, would've'...

now, i refuse to believe that this is a 'coming to terms with..', 'welcome to life', this is what happens next, kinda bullshit..., but god damn it, if this phase hasn't been hanging out long enough to meet my fuk'n parents, or have it's own history book, or some shit. it's like a stupid past relationship that you still fixate on.. simply.. because.. you can.

in stagnation land, even hope will step in and fuk with you, whispering bullshit into your subconscious, 'believe there's some sort of character building, cleverly woven into this nothing, that you're gunna get out of all this', which makes you go 'okay, okay', until defeat comes charging in with AK's sling'n from every limb, screaming "not today muther fukahhhhh!" bringing in some confusing, self negating shit like "hahaha, yeah, people really do suck, friendships fade, love doesn't exist, so go write another sappy song about it retard, alcohol makes a good friend, oh yeah, things forever cost mad money, you forgot to pay your fuk'n phone bill asshole, again. your room is messy as fuk and ain't gunna clean itself [damn], you gotta do laundryyyyy forever suka cauz u out of clean underwear and no, u got no more money to buy new ones. pay up biatch. what?"
now, it is within the eye of this flurry of chaos, life tug-a-war, hurricane, that i believe stagnation land lies. yes. a boring, little, but safe, island, in which one sits on, muttering aloud 'i don't know.' over and over again, while with glossed over, glazed eyes, you blankly stare at this massive shit storm that circles the horizon. how do you get off the island? i don't know. ahaha. yeah. i'm still there. maybe i'll construct a raft that'll get me through the shit storm.. that is if i ever get inspired to.

middle skool mix

i like to do very important tings throughout the day. like make intricate mixed tapes that are obviously musical gems. today's special is a lil something i like to call "da middle skool mix". chock-full of early 90's hip hop awesomeness that filled my middle skool yearz. fuk, i'm so pumped on this, i've already listened to it like 80 times and decided to make it available fer the world to download-

click this to download middle skool mix

trak list-

my new jewelry line: print factor plumage

Etsy: Your place to buy & sell all things handmade theprintfactor.etsy.com

here's what i really want to write about.

you know, i was sitting here thinking at 6am, on a lovely.. sat? yes, sat morning, after another memorable night of, wash. rinse. repeat., and this is the thought that tinkled through my evaporating brain cells.
how i'd really like to have a blog or whatever, called "yes. yes, i was just being nice to you for you drugz"..
and in this blog thing, i'd just clearly state the obvious, over and over again. free-base shit talking, serving the only obvious divine purpose of making me laugh, like i already do in my head.. because, i am a fuk'n asshole. and in my jedi pickled mind, this makes sssoooo much awesome sense.

what separates ME from YOU: part 1

-fact: everything looks way better spray painted gold. in fact, i think at 5 am, i am gunna spray paint this here cup gold. cauz i can.

-god damn, i can party.. harder than 99% of people i know.., and wow, i love it. still, at 28, luv it. i even love it in some sort of ironic way, when i hear things like, "well, you don't have to work tomorrow blah blah.."// YEAH. that's the fuk'n point and also, not true. i set my life up to work in perfect harmony with getting wasted. yeah, i didn't just like, slip and fall into being a scum-bag. however, doing so is absolutely a job as well.. a job that most couldn't, or wouldn't want to handle.
all that hard work'n at a crap job stuff.., won't do it, can't do it, can find other ways to be in hell, thank you. people.. do what you love and i swear you'll stop being so obtuse.
so, love getting drunk. wasted in general. i really thought, probably like my parents, that it would be a phase.., oops.., looks like "wasted" is here to stay. high five. sadly, i'd have to say that wasted has been a better friend to me than 95% of people i've encountered. shame on you society.

-i will not settle. oh, i know you know what i'm talking about. [for those who apply, which is most] that person you have been going out with forever, the one you have all that "history" with, or find all that "comfort" in, yet aren't quite as attracted to as you used to be, but you make excuses for the truth.. yeah, that would be settling. oh come now, it's no secret. if you ain't getting turned on like the old days, and without being too graphic, i mean.. like that fresh, new kind of turned on.., whelp. you are merely one of the many individuals who cannot handle being alone and settle for a best friend. sorry, i don't want to fuk a best friend. not fun. blah blah. oh, and don't like that whole crap spiel about things "evolving" into a more comfortable place, save those golden words to tell yourself. anyone who tries to sell me on any other idea.., i'll just beat you to the punch by saying.., i hardly envy anyone's relationship. ugh. really. in fact, most, i despise so much, it blankets most of my loneliness and makes me happy to have only porn by my side. oh.. this also includes those who take on someone because they have diluted their mind into thinking it'll add an illusion of stability to their life.. ugh. get fuk'n real. try living some true life.. instead of taking on a "safe, stable" lil number.. just wearing a relationship, like it's a fucking court suit.. look'n good for the judge. fuk'n gross. i lump those right into the "settle, i will not" bracket as well.
what's leftover are those who semi-agree with me, but do that whole "i cannot commit, so i just fuck" thing.., well.. i remember my early 20's too. it gets harder to just bang people as time goes by. yeah. i know! f'n tripped me out to find out that it gets weirder with age too..., but with that shit, people usually get all dumb-weird, or they start spouting stoopid half lies about cryptic crap, as if i cared, or spoke cryptonics anyway.. all of that is just so predictably annoying, that most of the time, i'd rather not sleep with anyone, just to spare myself the headache.

-well boyz and gurls.., i just smoked a lot of weed and can no longer process anything deeper than eating a bean and cheese burrito and passing the fuk out...
-end jew rant transmission.

cubed... solutionized.

so, recently i solved the rubik's cube. [[ yes, yes, i'm proud too ]] obviously i just fuk'n googled 'how to solve a rubik's cube', applied the boredom that only i can harness, and walked myself right through those algorithms. solving the cube, is not a terribly difficult thing to do, but can be a lengthy process, unless you memorize all the algorithms. which is.. ummm.. boring as shit, thus obviously explaining why asians, nerds and will smith, have dominated this market. for the moment...

oh rubik's cube, what you need is a person of 'awesomeness', who is absolutely insane and bored enough to take on your algorithmic challenge and my friend, that retard is me.
now, why would i do such a boring and pointless challenge? even i need a purpose.. a 'higher' goal, so to speak.
yeah.. check it though, i have sense to my flawless logic..

so, like imagine if we were like hanging out at a party or whatever.. people sitting around, talking about shit that nobody cares about. if you are anything like me, you're sitting there thinking "jesus, why do i even bother.., i don't even like people".. you know, a party. all of the sudden i cruise up to you, the amazing species that i am, and i pull out a rubik's cube. fuk'n BOOM! solve that shit in like fuk'n 2 minutes, or something crazy like that? fuk'n hands down, it'd blow your god damn obtuse mind. you know it. i know it. thus, i'd be getting laid.
and that's my bat shit wack job rubik's cube theory.

done. cubed..., solutionized.

golden updates.

oh poor blog. poor society, how I've neglected thee.
fuk. i'm sorry, i have been busy. doing important things.. like, wasting brain cells.
solving the rubik's cube. things that need to be done.
nevertheless, i have some golden updates:

1. the other night i was driving home.. and it was like that time when the sun is about to come up.., so you can't tell whether it's 6pm or 6am.., looks wise. anyway, so i was driving home and i thought i saw a donkey in the middle of the street..., but this was no ordinary donkey. this was like a columbian coffee type donkey, ya know, being lead by valdez in the poncho. it was a beautiful one second, until i realized it was just a tree. bullshit.

2. i found a drunken/ high note that i scribbled down, titled "war pasta".. and all it said was: "don't eat pasta when you are at war. don't eat war pasta." i have no idea when this fuken golden poetry came about, or who spawned the war pasta theory, but i love it and absolutely agree.

3. this is possibly one of the best things i've seen in awhile and i'm actually kind of pissed i didn't think of this myself.
----------> http://whythefuckdoyouhaveakid.com/

4. here is why my life is gold, why my friends are gold and why it's the little fuked up out of your mind moments that make life worth living.

okay my five blog followers, [myself included], there's your update. go prosper.

the world's best date rape song

yeah, that's what it's about.
you don't fool me color me bad.
let's do this. bring on the rape.
color me date rape.
dig.


- Color Me Badd Lyrics

long live the holy trinity

grab a slice of this///

a holy trinity. three points. a triangle with a mission. a purpose.
+++ trio trinity philosophy

1. fuck gnomes// not like, have sex with gnomes. that's fucking gross. fuck gnomes as in FUCK 'em. kill em on sight.
yeah. that's right. you're go'n down.

2. fuck babies// babies suck. stop making them. snort a baby. slap chop a baby. babies are just gnomes in disguise.

3. fuck a cactus// cactus. i'm calling you out fucker. you're a perpetrator. claiming your ridiculous notion of survival in the harshest conditions. bullshit. i've killed you once. you didn't even fight. you were supposed to bring a plant-ish vibe to my living quarters, requiring little to no care, the only care i can provide for a plant, but no. bullshit. i tried to even hook you up, cactus. yeah, your death was an accidental result of your weak ass interior. i thought we were a team, but you're a faker. yeah. that's right. we know of things that are more resilient than you. requiring even less attention and are way hotter than you. i'm not gunna tell you. you wrap your weak mind around that, cactus.


+who is our ENEMY?
there is one being that stands in our way, but won't be standing for long. we are onto you. your name is on the list. we have sent messengers and it's only a matter of time. who is this being of ill character you ask? none other than.., the kernel himself.




yeah. that's right. FUCK YOU kernel. uh-huh. you have been stripped of your proper military spelled name, and downgraded to the ranking of corn. a piece of corn rather. not even a cob. we will teach you not to laugh at us. scoffing us with that ridiculous laughter. let me just tell you fucker, you think the bell is your friend? pssh. you best not think at all. you have no team. no friends. certainly no fucking bell.

3.

three word blog.

tetris vs the flashback.

i knew that cleverly manipulating those little bright cubes, or for the tetris savvy, tetrominoes, did more than just suffice my boredom and create digital lines. oh yes, i've always had your back tetris and i knew you had a few more tricks up your cubish sleeve.  i remember when you came onto the scene, a newbie, fresh out of innovated mid 80's technology, and it wasn't long till you paled up with game boy in '89, soaring your way into the hearts of all kinds. 

yet all the fame and fortune you've found, never changed you too much, tetris.. did it?  you always remained modest, and consistent. while some of your other buddies from the same era, went on to the more complicated gaming genres, you humbly remained the same arrangement of cubes, eagerly awaiting always, to pass those boring moments in life.  just to abstain from being too consistent, you'd spice things up, by maybe throwing in a 'polished look', or changing up your sweet colors from time to time. some may say you've been around a lil too much, tetris, but i say don't hate the game, hate the players, for all i know is countless times you've been there for me,  in waiting rooms, on the bus, in the classroom, on the phone, in the car, or just helping me ignore people in general.  

yes, yes, i'd say when it comes to mindless video puzzle gaming, you're number one in my book baby.., so i have to say that i wasn't too surprised to learn you had a little jedi lurking in you. i always knew there was something more to you, hiding behind those falling tetrominoes. and i say, go for it buddy! don't hold yourself back. let your true potential as a healer shine! perhaps in the not so distant future, scientists will release information that hidden in those lil cubes, lies the cure for cancer. i don't wanna get ahead of myself here, for we're not quite there yet.  however, where we are at, is face to face with tetris's potential, to sooth those damn traumatic 'flashbacks'. yes, according to researchers, playing tetris can reduce the effects of PTSD.. that's post traumatic stress disorder, for those who ain't so keen with the acronyms. 

 

DR emily holmes (no relation to the infamous john holmes, although how very rad that would be), says that manipulating those lil falling tetrominoes, dukes it out with the same brain shit that causes one to have 'flash backs' from PTSD. [full story]

is tetris the new xanax? when i go to move my car and see that the DPT has issued me a $150 in tickets, can i just play some tetris to sooth my angry flashbacks? i am one of those lucky few, who happen to exist in a constant state of post traumatic stress, but i've always relied upon my own 'flashback' regressing methods, such as a concoction of booze and benzo's. perhaps even a soothing smoke to top it all off. is DR holmes suggesting that flashback nirvana lays hidden in bright little cubes? 

i believe in you tetris. 

'third-hand smoke'?

even as a pretty careless smoker, i'm a kind enough soul to take pity on the non-smokerz of this world, by not cramming my secondhand smoke up their asses, by going to smoke in my 'designated' area..// giving up my right to display my addiction in pretty much every fucking public place on earth// oh how my mind ponders what it must've been like back in the 50's, when cigarette ad's were pictures of smoking doctors, holding a baby, and housewife's chose amphetamine diet pills over a daily multi vitamin. america? what happened to you? if you can't do the time, don't do the crime. don't do the crime and punish the innocent bystanders. 

us hip to the chemical love of smoking, known as 'smokers', started our downward decent into the non-smoking world, when we started dishing out our freedom by giving up the airplane // although old enough to remember when i could smoke in the mall, i was too young to live in that luxurious period of non-smoke free travel. forfeiting any hope of look'n like a suave jet setter out of some fucking hip 70's euro-trash movie..// sooo many moments i've had, flying in a airplane, wishing that when that baby behind me starts screaming, i could pull out a smoke to sooth my already fragile nerves. well.., those dreams, smashed, and in return, non-smokers thank me by bringing crying fucking babies on the plane. here's a good deal.., no smoke in trade for no babies on planes.

then we gave you the restaurant. apparently, having a whole section to yourselves, just wasn't good enough. oh well, there is always vegas or most of europe.. oh wait, you took those too. thus leading to the worst.., the bars. the bar was a place that in all fairness, should be ours. it once was a place of beauty. being able to display dual addictions, that go hand in hand, harmoniously with one another.

and it's okay, non-smokers, you don't believe in give and take. we get it. so we'll keep our secondhand smoke and give you... everything. for at least, i have the privacy of my own home to destroy my life.... or do i?

Warning over 'third-hand smoke' 

(* click to read the full BBC news article)

basically, some douche professor dude, who obviously does not partake in the good ol' self-sabotaging joy of smoking, has done some sort of survey of 1,500 american homes, which i'm betting wasn't in any major city, but in some fucking bible banging, backwoods, midwestern state [just a hunch], came to the conclusion that there is a high risk of health problems associated with 'third-hand smoke'. wtf is this 'third-hand smoke', you say? well, apparently, it's the smoke that remains on our clothes when we return from our designated areas..  etc. etc.

sssssoooo what? it's not even good enough to get the fuck away from non-smokers, to enjoy my tobacco medley? i have to just not smoke at all cause some midwest inbred child may suckle on my clothes and die or some shit? will i have to febreze my clothes if i leave the house? i can't be asked not to even have the 'smell of smoke' on me. i consider that smell an important accessory, that goes hand in hand with my alcoholic breath. defining 'me' as an individual, god damn it.  oh 2008, you were already such a gnarly year..., what will be the fate for smokers in '09?

it's all just another example of people getting an inch and demanding a mile...