Chapter 03

Fuck. It seems I am cursed, living as I am, to be compelled to stay up for unnatural hours, playing the lab rat in my 'basic routine', only to be woken up at ungodly hours in the morning directly after. It's not right. I should rise up and curse the fuckers down. No good, though. Such tactics never get one far when they are staying in their own home for the weekend, as is my chosen fate this particular weekend. Groggy-eyed, still reeling from the few hours of sleep that I was allowed, I hear something about beers for breakfast. Shit, that sounds good. I taste bitter defeat, though, as I realize it's simply part of some shitty country song. Damn. Oh well. Still a few hours before I need to leave for University again. Get done what we can now, leave the rest for later. Must stop this bullshit procrastination. Messenger windows popping and blinking like Halloween lights. Fuck people, get in line, before my head finally caves and implodes on itself from the strain! Too many pokes at once, need to sort things through.

Yesterday, at least, was spent in relative normalcy. A sigh of relief in my life. If normalcy allows my life a sigh of relief, though, it seems my life barely breathes most of the time, it simply holds its breath and dives under, into the deep, murky waters of insanity and hopes to find an airpocket before the crazy fills the lungs.

Some weird fucker just sent me a message...Get cru pca...what the hell? I'm not even tired or hyped on caffeine, and I still cannot comprehend this garbled bullshit. So many strangers on my list. People I barely know, or can't even remember how they got my address, or got on my list. We live in world of strangers, though, so I guess it's fine. There can be no strangers if we know everyone. Best to keep one's self in the dark about some folks. The weird fucker calls himself whitedevil, or at least that's what his email address says. How the fuck do I meet some of these people, and what compels either them or me to add the other?

Watching the news today made me ill in the stomach. Bullshit american news, nothing but doom stories. Thompson had it right when he said there were two types of people in the world: the Screwheads, and the Doomed, though I believe his perception of who is who might still now be relevent. The Screwheads, those God-forsaken government fucks who take the country by the balls, use the mass media to instill fear, distrust, undertones of racism, and all other sorts of weird shit into the minds of television zombies, contentedly rotting away in their comfy Laz-E-Boy chairs or their Ikea sofas. We are the voice of the nation! Too bad the Nation's tongue and teeth have rotted away from watching Survivor, Big Brother (ironically enough, as the poor bastards don't even realize they're watching a controlled mini-version of the world today), and other such ass-fodder, leaving the Nation to shrug its shoulders and just go with what they're fed. It's not like it can chew anything for itself, anyway. This is my fear for Canada, that the same, slow proccess of rot and decay is silently creeping its way into the heart of -our- nation. Save Canada, listen to Hunter, don't take any guff from these fucking swine! We are better than that, we cannot simply sit back as the warchief-controlled zombie nation of America slowly and stiffly straddles us from behind and ruins our lives forever. If that happens, though, I only wonder which sorry bastard province will end up being the point of penetration...