mentalNoise

I am currently addicted to the song “Stinkfist” by Tool. It’s playing in a loop in Winamp as I type this entry. I know it’s a really old song; it was released way back 1996. Still, I like it and you don’t have to.

Thinking that it was another of those emotional and dark love songs, I searched for the meaning of the song title hoping that it would shed some light as to what the song meant. I found one and I must say that the meaning was far from what I had imagined it to be.

This is one of Tool’s most enigmatic songs, at least in what it could mean. Several people believe it could be taken literally, to be about anal fisting (hence all the referencing to penetration).

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stinkfist

Although there was a disclaimer that this meaning was not verified, it still is a very amusing disturbing one. I can’t help but imagine what the hell is done during “anal fisting”. It’s making my stomach turn just thinking of it. It must really hurt like hell. Now I have a hint as to what the lines “finger/knuckle/elbow deep within/inside the borderline” of the song lyrics means.

Shit, imagine elbow deep inside the “borderline”. How much more perverted and sick can one person get, eh?

I still like the song though.

I was tagged by snglguy with this meme. Hopefully it will make some sense. This is my chance to discover who the f-ck I am (okay, that sounded so queer). On with the post.

20 random facts about me (which you probably won’t give a rat’s ass about).

1. I am overweight. Yup. I am a big, fat, lazy piece of shit.
2. I like to smoke but I am trying to find a way to stop. Not because I know it will eventually kill me but because I want to cut back on my expenses.
3. I am an occasional drinker. And since my budget does not allow me to splurge on branded, imported and expensive intoxicating drinks, I’d do fine with beer — lots of it.
4. The only scholastic award I got during my entire student life was “Best in P.E.” — that was when I was in Elementary (Grade 5). Shit, I don’t even think that it is considered as a legit award.
5. I always wanted to be a photographer or an architect but instead was indirectly forced to take up an engineering course so I ended up being a computer programmer.
6. I like to read books preferably the ones labelled “Classics”. You know, Shakespeare, Edgar Allan Poe, and … uhm … Shakespeare. I also like fantasy books (not erotic fantasy but fantasy with dragons, wizards, etc.) but I never did get addicted to Harry Potter.
7. I am an insomniac.
8. I like anime! I started self-learning on how to draw manga a while ago but for some reason, I gave up because I could never get to draw the body right. What with all that perspective shit and shading. It was too hard for me. But I am thinking of trying again.
9. I have a great sense of humor.
10. I am a frustrated musician. One career path I dreamed of following when I was still in high school was to be part of a band. Well, some of my buddies and I formed one and I ended up learning how to play the drums. It didn’t work out so we disbanded. I’d still like to give this dream a go but it’d be hard to find dedicated band members. And I haven’t played the drums in about 2 years already so I think my skills have deteriorated.
11. I prefer rock music over all the other genres.
12. I like watching comedy shows.
13. I like to write poetry. When I finish a poem and re-read it, I notice that it is the kind of literature grade schoolers can probably come up with (or even make better ones). So I end up throwing it away and not sharing it here on my blog.
14. I like playing video games. Preferred platform is our family PC since I cannot afford to buy a video game console. The knack for video games may have been a factor why I left my dream of becoming a fine arts student and took up computer science. I wanted to make my own game. Now, I can’t even make a simple tic-tac-toe game. I should have gone to fine arts.
15. I love pasta. Like spaghetti and pizza. Is pizza a pasta? Whatever.
16. I have a receding hairline even though I am only 2# years old. I miss wearing my hair to shoulder length … damn these company rules and guidelines.
17. My favorite fruit is the mango. Either the yellow, sweet one or the green, sour one. I’m starting to salivate thinking about it.
18. I like banana cue but I don’t like Cueshe. LOL!
19. 5′ 10″ — my height. Duh!
20. I am still single and available. This is a shameless plug but it does get lonely sometimes.

Okay, I think that’s already 20. I can’t quite remember the last time I did this kind of exercise. Wait, it was probably when my sister got a hold of that once famous “autograph” notebooks and forced me to write shit like this. Now that I mention it, I can’t remember who I wrote in the Who is your crush? line.

I am not tagging anyone since I don’t know how many I must tag. If, by any chance you get to read this post, and feel obligated to do the exercise yourself, then feel free. Wait, it wouldn’t be a meaningful meme if I don’t tag anyone. So, I decided to tag everyone who reads my blog. If you have already been tagged, then there is no need to repeat yourself, right? Good.

Later.

Death.

Just the thought of it sends shivers down my spine and into my balls, causing a few droplets of urine to prematurely ejaculate. I have heard numerous news of death as of late. My brother’s officemate’s sister was allegedly murdered about a month ago, my sister’s boyfriend’s father passed away about a week ago and my father’s friend is in a wake, inside the coffin, as of this writing. And to add some kind of morbid motivation for me to write about death are Dondino’s and Carl’s posts regarding it.

Necrophobia is perhaps the most common fear of all. Obviously, nobody wants to die. And so the thought, and reality of it, is dismissed and tucked away in the deepest recesses of the subconcious. But this truth is the most bitter of the bitter pills we need to swallow everyday. It’s inevitable and we all know someday we will end up, well, dead. I am not here to scare you or to remind you that you will die someday. I already know you know that and I also know that you know what you need to do knowing that you are, well, going to die someday.

My time will come too. And when it does, I can no longer see the different reactions of the people I love and care about. Sometimes, I get a little crazy crazy and I ask anyone (my brother, sisters, friends) if they’d cry if I died, if they’d miss me when I’m gone. To which they’d reply with a not-so-sure face that I must be out of my mind asking that kind of question. Personally, it’s a rather disappointing answer. Call me KSP* but wouldn’t it be good to know who does care about you or not?

Well, I am not obligating anyone to be all teary eyed and sobbing like a banshee when I die. There is nothing more you can do anyway — unless your tears have the power to resurrect a body without internal organs, then be my guest. What I do want is to be remembered by my good acts and deeds and not the bad ones (which is almost always the case). A simple burial would be in order and a makeshift casket will probably do just fine since I won’t be feeling uncomfortable anymore.

I better stop here. I’m starting to sound cheesy in a morbid and creepy way.

*KSP roughly translates to a person who is attention-deprived in English.