Vodafone is lame as fuck…

When my wife left me for the milkman it was a bit of a blow. I sat around the house in solitude for grey and endless days, the sun no longer shining, the house no longer a home, just a prefabricated shell full of meaningless objects that reminded me of days gone by.

So for a while I hit the bottle, hit it hard. I felt that the only way to take the pain away would be to take my brain out, and so I did the only logical thing I could think of, which was to get as fucked-up as possible, start smoking cigarettes again and sit staring at the rain out the window with one of those nicotine-induced headaches that makes the back of your eyes flame up.

All the same, I couldn’t stop thinking about my bitch wife. Despite being drunk and out of it, that goddam face of hers would still swim up from beneath my subconscious. Little things that didn’t make sense at the time, things she’d said, like how I was a momma’s boy, or how I had a small dick, things that I had once shrugged off as the rantings of a loon, but could now only dwell upon as though the incontrovertible gnosis of some gifted, genius sage.

And so I began to drink more, until eventually the alcohol didn’t phase me, and so I had to go up the ladder of narcotics: marijuana, psyclobin mushrooms, right the way up to the old smackaroonies. But still it wouldn’t rid me of the pain, just left me comatose and serene, awaking ever eternally reunited with an ever-increased barrage of bullshit memories of shudder-inducing intensity and horrific verisimilitude.

And so I turned from the bottle to the drugs to the gun. I always knew I’d end it all in some Cobainesque fashion one day, feeling alone, misunderstood, and out of it all. And so I went out to the outhouse to fetch the shotgun.

It was still raining as I went out there but, because I was still fucked-up on my cocktail of self-pity I didn’t give a fuck. Truth be told, I was butt-naked, my drug-riddled little cock swinging in the wind like a cocktail sausage in the gutter.

But that was when it happened. As I was about to open the door of the outhouse and get out the gun I looked to the sky for one last, wonderous time. I had expected to see nothing, instead though, I was greeted by the face of the Lord himself.  He smiled right at me and then he said:

“Thou shalt do a handstand.”

And that was when I had the epiphany, as though some glorious flash of light was enveloping my very soul, as though on the cusp of empyreal comprehension. The rain stopped at just that moment, the glorious sunlight of the saviour’s smile falling down and about me as my heart pounded in my chest and, for the first time since that cunt had left me with that cow-nipple-pinching son of a bitch, I felt truly and infinitely alive. I flung my arms to the floor and my legs to the sky.

And then, finally, the pain went away forever…

-Are human beings supposed to do handstands or is it against our fundamental nature?

-Do you believe in God? Have you ever had an epiphany?

-What was the point of this stupid, goddam blog post?

-Will there ever be peace between men and women?

-Can you do any acrobatics or are you just another sedentary homo sapiens in an office cubicle?

Handstand Guy’s Website Here.

Gonna start a movement? Gonna change the world? Gotta learn to dance.

Back from bloggy heaven. Don’t know what I did wrong. Somehow managed to delete everything but then it magically returned and now I feel whole again.

For some reason I have two web addresses that lead to the same place (synerjizzm.com and unhipster.net). Was gonna try and sort it out but figured I might as well keep being lame for the sake of consistency.

Feel like this brush with death has changed me. Gonna be a better blogger. Gonna try harder. Gonna reach out to the world and touch some lives.

Whoooo.

Read The Great Gatsby so that I could pretend to be cultured and know what people were talking about in indie movies, etc. Paid extra special attention to the beauty of the language and the characterization, felt that I understood the world a little more, got some insight to the human condition.

Then I found out that somebody had made a video game:

And it reminded me of how I used to just be a little white kid in the suburbs, wasting away on my Nintendo. So now I don’t know if I’m cultured any more and I don’t know what to do.

Play it here.