down

It’s 2:08 in the morning. I’m sweaty. Can’t sleep. It’s not hot, it’s actually quite chilly outside. I’m starting to come off my alcohol binge, a binge I use as a masking to subsitiute the reality principle defunct; something to mask my flaws, my inept social nightmare which confines me to a computer. Don’t get me wrong. I want friends. I enjoy their company. But whom can you find so early in the morning?
Rewind two days ago. I was having the time of my life. I hung out with my dad and we got haircuts, he even helped me with lending a few hundred bucks, I was asking out for comic con. But I feel out of some personal aspects, I don’t deserve to go. I must punish myself, seclude and deny society and it’s unforgiving stereotype labelling patrons. 2:13 am now. My mouth is sour from the bitter taint of alcohol. I want to bathe, feel clean and feel anew yet everyone is asleep and I wish not to wake them. So here I am, typing instead to keep my mind from exploding. I feel dirty for wasting 400 bucks, 6 months of preperation and soiling a relationship gone mildly stale friendship with one particular pink pachyderm. Things haven’t developed between me and the elephant, I avoid her when she returns from the con, satisfied and tired from her earthly delight; one that I too wanted to go to. I don’t deserve it. I’m a self loathing recluse, intoxicated and stuffed to the gills with pride. A walking complex which reeks of hypocrisy. My own failure prevents me from trying, and I still continue to hammer my self esteem into the ground. My inner self cries for help but my personality denies everything.

Apologizing to her will be easy. Apologizing to myself makes me want plant a bullet in my head.

firehazard

Here we have the infamously crowded powerhub; it’s a power outlet, but which has a 6 plug splitter, with a cord hooked up to a surge protector. (I think it’s a surge protector.) From top to bottom, we have..

Asian decoration lanterns.

Clear Christmas lights.

4 port Ethernet hub with cords going to Wii & Laptop.

RF Modulator with video out coming from laptop to analog television for dual screen

Mini clip fan aimed down at my laptop.

Mangled coathanger shaped into a hook holding a pair of a cheap microphone

And a nightlight pest repeller. it uses sonic sound waves that people can’t hear to repel and annoy insects and crap.

And my laptop most of all, plugged into it.

It’s such a weird place I can think of, it’s a dedication to low-life high tech monuments out there. So many cords.

save me

I applied for a new job. I didn’t do my homework but this is my response for

http://sfbay.craigslist.org/pen/wri/714154577.html

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Editor: KindaResume.

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rex m to jobs
show details 8:46 PM (6 minutes ago)
Reply

Dear Almighty Editor,

Hello. my name is Rex G Margate, (650) 302 – 4461. My Mailing Address is 84 Delong Street, 94112, San Francisco

I am a 22 year old young male whom obsesses a good forty to fifty percent of their often monotonous days off playing games, Online Shooters, mmorpgs with friends, hell, even the occasional casual release shareware from such an unknown developer it shouldn’t be referred to as third party, much more like damned fourth party. Thinking back,  I’ve had quite a bit of nostalgic experience; I believe a person should know more about the history on computer gaming as much as they know about their job role.

-If you’re looking for a resume with less ego boosting ranting, stop here.

If you’re reading still, Holy crap thank you. Most likely I’m going to push the fact I’m going to heavily compensate over me having experience being a more-than-average gamer over being some fancy bigshot writer that the New Yorker would hire faster you can say Abysmal-and-extreme-dislike

-for-the-Purple-coin-challenge when they describe Super Mario galaxy; I’ve had my experience on writing for quite some time. Being a young person, I feel I fit into the young, cutthroat generation that critically rates all types of gaming trends, brown and bloom, the cake is a lie, need a dispenser here, pylons and so forth.

When I’m not at my miserable warehouse job, assembling plaque for jerks who probably don’t deserve them, trophies for children who probably run up and down the soccer field like meth addicts scrounging money for a hit; see a twenty dollar bill on the grass, unknowingly aware of the fishhook protruding out of the bill, and the bold asshole who decided to play human fishing because he lost a bet- I’m often speaking with my fellow gaming brethren, casual gamers, loyal and hardcore; all archetypes of the cyberpunk beatnik culture that is the gamer. Such arguments, conversations and preachings of biased makeshift reviews; If only this crap was caught on paper. I believe my crazy speeding mind which bounds from witnessing the world I see before me is going to waste in my current occupation. I hate to sound like I’m full of myself, but I believe my brain tells me I have more to do in life.  I want to write; I want to live; I want to play the game.

I don’t have much experience on writing; nor a corporate job. What I do know I have is a love for games, drawing, meta cognitive thinking and the blatant expressionistic writing I hope to bring to your company. This isn’t your run of the mill traditional resume, but this isn’t your traditional job. Still, I’ll post what I’ve done in the past for a living.

L&L Daly City – 3 months, let go because I was caught playing Zelda: The Minish Cap; (when it was DEAD quiet in the night, too.)
South San Francisco Albertsons, Now Lucky Store – Left due to me not caring about such backbreaking labor & jerks who bitched about me wanting to join their money grubbing union.

Right now I currently work at an online based awards and engraving company; 123-awards.com. It too is in South San Francisco and I’ve been there for 3 years now. It is the closest thing I’ve come to being happy in a semi-casual job,  but lately the management is going through some major overhauling; ruining the family feel I once loved of such a friendly workspace.

I’m a high school graduate, with minor college, courses on art and some creative writing. I’ve been playing games since I was five or six, From Super Mario 3 to Halo 3, I’ve played all sorts of type/niche of games I like to describe from 2D platformer Contra, point and click, The Longest Journey, Obscure cartoony shooter Team Fortress 2 , role playing Ragnarok to Stratagy Starcraft. I’m not saying I’ve done it all, but I’m willingly open to work with plenty of new material. Wholeheartingly wishing; I applied for this job, thinking landing such a kickass role in any, ANY writing role you may have, hell; I’ll even draw on napkins for a few dollars- Would be so life changing. I would be applying myself to something I love.

I hope by now you still have no idea on how I have no CLUE on how to write a resume; but I wittingly try to compensate my complete lack of professionalism with a freaking personality. Thank you and Good night.

——————————
Even if I look like a total dumbshit who doesn’t know how to make a resume, fuck; I’m still trying right?

fearless leader

Life. To sustain life would mean you would have to do whatever it takes. Finding an occupation, a job, a career should not define what you are, what you did for the world should define you. We all sell out a little, and it’s okay. You bite your tongue, hold in your opinion and play the capitalism game, playing your shit disposable pawn role in life, to earn worth, currency that you need for goods and food. Not everyone live on a farm, and most prefer to shovel papers in an office than shovel shit to grow your own food.

So. We all need jobs. You come to a job, meet the people, grow with them as the days, months and years tick, become friends. Today I lost one of those friends. His name is Jacob. (thats him up there) Kinda tall, 6 foot something, Big head and long forehead; a type of shape I like to call “Wongtangular”. He also has a breed of a personality I like to call PseudoNeoTechHippie, A health conscious and healthy eating individual who believes in such tone and harmony with the earth, how to enjoy manly moments, what to look forward to in life and don’t waste a minute, stuff I’ve done forever. Probably the secondmost person I talk to more than Sarai. His gaming influences are more casual, point and click adventures, Resident Evil, horror games, your occasional blockbuster game he might go for, Bioshock. He likes adventure, and eye drowningly subversive environments which please the brain, over the games of skill, multiplayer shooting and or mmorpg, (yet his views on world of warcraft is positive due to the adventure and customizable views). He helped keep me with some neat shows, hack all types of handheld gadgets endless views and perspectives on all types of media. He was a gateway encyclopedia to the world, and it was great.

This man is the main guy I go to when I need advice, work or not, about music, life, food, health, bread, videogames, alcohol, you name it. he even taught me what he knew from such interesting conversations, him being my Yin to question my Yang, and then me to object, I’m a very arguemental type of talker; the type who probably bring into “Oh our own government bombed the twin towers, not Middle Eastern assassin terrorist boxcutterknife ninjas.” or.. “TEAM FORTRESS 2 ISNT A FRAG FEST, QUAKE 4 IS A FRAGFEST, THERE’S TEAM IN THE TITLE FOR A REASON YOU JERK”

Such tones in the day were often highlighted by our talking, through seperate projects on the side of the warehouse, to the back where air filters of the vacuum get thrown onto the side of the building, to the trophy building attic where I spend hours of hours, making the day so fast. I went to 4 concerts with him, 3 for Mew one for an east coast band, Denali. They’re good stuff, Especially with that one Mew show at 330 Rich, oh God. Mew sounded so heavenly that night; my ears rang with such life inspiring might that it convinces that such a life at this age, in this time is worth it, worth the constant fear of not having life nor dental insurance, how I shouldn’t be so afraid from being a penniless homeless person, how whatever misfortune may fall upon me, from the severely chaotic world we may call a reality, in some bizarre way, every broken link gets it’s missing piece welded to it, and we all move onto the next day, a repeat in our existance.

Not quite a mentor, he was just a friend who was experienced at the mmoprg you call life, who tells you which skills to invest in to provide maximum efficiency of a proper balanced class-tree buildset. Today we lost our captain, my role model. I know I’m being overly sentimental, but I was seriously bummed to hear Jacob left the mom & pop expanding company because he had his morals, how he didn’t want to support the company on a more will bending role, a supervisor who is supposed to assume more responsibility, to fuel this life consuming spawn of a monster I like to call the conglomeranti, if such a deadly spawn machine was built from the psuedotheories about an Illuminati, with the Capitalismistic Conglomerate machine; both combined to make the human rat cages we call jobs, running on the treadmills to make cogs and bolts spin, releasing life sustaining pellet pet food from a sadistic body grinding machine to produce more pet food.

He chose life over supporting the machine, which supports his existance.

This company won’t be the same without him, the day wont be the same without him, and I won’t be the same without such a great friend, I’d like to show you this page one day, but you’d probably argue with me about it about how I’m on some crazy shit, and how my imagination surpasses the our 270 degree eyesight and it’s probably kinda fruity to type a short eight hundred and thirty five word essay. See you, Jacob, a role model for 22 year olds everywhere.

the lovely miss p. elephant.

lets talk about something.. sentimental. shall we?

Alot of people ask if I have a significant other. Like..like- everyone. Co-workers, friends, family, you name it. people online ask me this, all the time. And what do I say? “Yeah. I do.” She’s a very intellectual person who hates to see my creativity go to waste; the epiphany of what I like to categorize her as the librarian-type girl. Oh yes, the type who hides behind her textbook, always their parents would be so strict on them when growing up, so the only world they know is in their imagination, or if they’re tech-literate, the internet.

And thats where I met this sweet young lady, on the internet. On a game. We didn’t exactly hit it off, we were friends first until I had to say something because the truth eats at your soul, like acid, sweet glorious acid that washes away the maskings of emotion. We like games. (No biggie there; she even classifies me as a gamer) We enjoy the occasional anime and snobby high brow esoteric-al humor which makes being a full blown nerd SUDDENLY COOL after being in high school. We’re modern age hippies, Cyberpunk Beatniks, baby. I introduced her to some neat games, and I constantly share my music, thoughts and ideas for life each and every day.

Sure I run out of things to say once in awhile, which leads to your occasional off day, or in this case a weekend’s worth of offsetting awkward frustration days, We have this bullshit-touch-and-go-guilt-trip days where we go back and forth, being sorry. “I’m sorry” “no, I’m sorry!” “no, I’m sorry!” I hate it. It’s total fucking bullshit and it’s eating up my day why are you doing this to me woman. I wanted to go play some damn tf2 this morning until we had that arguement jesus christ why don’t you let me play arrrrrrgh; FUCK@#E@FDQWIF DAMMIT LEOHN. GO TO SOUTH AFRICA YOU DOUCHE.

Well, I kinda lost there, but everyone has their flaws. I love her to death, but the woman needs to know I need to do my things once in a full blue moon, or at least for a few hours. I get clingy too sometimes, but if she wants space; I give her space. Its how it should be. Sometimes I say something in a specific type of slang or term, and I have to spend 20 minutes explaining why, why I used it, and why because of whatever. It’s okay to answer once in awhile, but seriously I feel like a dysfunctional father whom is drunk off his 5th shot of whiskey explaining how shit works to a hyperactive 4 year old who asks “whats the sky made out of” in which I reply “air, and clouds”.

You think that would end there, right? NOPE. they ask why. and why again! And for the hell of it, why once more. – It’s usually at this time I grit my teeth and say nothing’s wrong, but thats when you tell a bunch of shit is wrong, I’ve depleted so much of my day there, and if I sound like I’m upset, then you get upset and guess what, it’s the fucking “I’m sorry” multi-path-BS-paradox-timeandspaceuniverseimplode thing all over again.

We hate it. And it happens, we just let it happen too. Sometimes I think I’m a fucking moron who can’t keep his mouth shut, and she’s the saddest person, in the saddest place in the world and I can’t do diddly freaking squat to prince charming her way out of her hole in the wall country. Maybe it won’t work out. But so far I don’t think I would care much about life if she wasn’t around. I don’t think I would be here, typing. this. … I do believe I ran out of stream. and that is how you properly vent, people. learn from it.

I  love ya, Sarai. I know the wrath of my brain radiation stings, but it stings with caring sympathy.

an addiction

Fetishes. It makes people what they are, really. You could tell alot about people if you knew what rocks their socks off. What hits them the right way, how pleasant and content they feel when they put on a diaper, wank over their Sneakers, and then shove a barbie doll up their ass so to speak for that cherry on top flavor. All they have to do from there is wipe themselves off with a tissue and go on with their lives, go back to your cubicle monotone blue collar mine digging job you call a life.

But no, none of that for me, I might enjoy the next psuedopregnagangyiffkake as the next person, but I’m talking about qtips. Yes. Fucking Q-tips. pieces of strung together cotton on a bendy paper stick, wound together roughly 20 to 30 times then lined seamlessly with non-toxic adhesive, all bundled in a neat 100, 200 or if you’re like me, 500 pack of these babies. I love them. they’re like endless sex. And unlike sex or touching yourself, there’s no climax with this habit, oh no. That means the pleasure never ends. Fucking hell, you can put a qtip in each ear. There’s your damn double penetration you perverts.

You need to get in there for it to actually be pleasant. Which means ignoring the safety warning that says “DEAR GOD DON’T PUT THIS SHIT IN YOUR EAR CANAL YOU MAY ANSWER A PHONE WHILE HAVING IT ON AND NAIL IT INTO YOUR BRAIN” Which would be an obscure, unusual response, since disclaimers aren’t that long.

If you can, shower first, it gets everything moist and makes it more enjoyable. From there, you simply and easily guide the swab in, and if you feel like you’re so afraid of perforating your eardrum, twist the cotton loosely and fluff it up, bam. You’ll have roughly a centimeter of room to work with before you sink that thing into your cognitive skills part of your cerebellum.

I was in the military once, out in the woods. Guess what I did when I stared out into the stars while I wished I was somewhere else? Other than touching one’s self? Okay whatever. I think I would know what I’m talking about. I’ve been doing this for all my life, and I can self claim to be a professional q-tip technician, just like my mom.

The addiction is so bad, I wish they made cigarette sized boxes to tote them around in, so they wouldn’t spoil in my pockets; Like how they normally do.

What to talk about. Free indepenant thought? Sure.

Sometimes my mind explodes into a fiery burst of creativity, so fast, my ears erupt with subliminal jellybeans that freeze everything in my point of view, my window to the world. Often the eccentric music I play in my media player makes the candy that falls out of my mind dance, jive, thrive and pose. Screw eye candy, this is freaking Mind candy. And it’s a limited supply.

Best you utilize that coiled spaghetti intestine heap you call a brain, before it withers away like a Christmas Tree in Feburary.

If brain power could kill, I do believe I can take out Nagasaki 4 times with this bad boy.