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The_Guns_of_Erin
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Name: Matthew
Location: someday, Dublin Eire, United States
Birthday: 9/10/1985
Gender: Male
Interests: You could say that I have a soft spot for the ladies. and for liqour. Wisconsin is a place I've been wanting to live, and Colorado a spot I'd like to vacation. I also want to sleep in the Rockies, hike across Caledonia (Scotland) and live (in my later years) near Dublin, Eire. Hopefully I'll fit a couple years in NYC in there too.
Expertise: I wander. I walk in the rain. I smoke and drink as much as I can within restraint. I am a self proclaimed master of the guitar and harmonica and vocal performance. But that's only in my own opinion. Genius is never appreciated in its time... My friends say I'm a crazy mofo, because apparently smoothe talkin sonvabitch or true badass don't cut it for me.
Occupation: Unemployed/Between Jobs
Message: message meEmail: email me
Website: visit my website
AIM:  TheGunsofErin
Member Since:
7/31/2004
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| Kickin' it old school, peeps! Look! Look at me, I'm hip and urban! I said peeps! Please read my xanga, please please...
Just kidding. I really am leaving. This really is my last post. I need
to vent my frustrations towards my living conditions. This ISN'T
professional! The thunderous din must cease. Day in and out, the waves
of art's reason crash against the rocks of rozz's obscenity. Art's
tide, in a feverish fit, overzealously seeks to overpower his shores
but frequently comes off as facetious and simply receeds from the
summit upon which rozz's peaks of indifference firmly sit. There can be
no victory. There is no winning or losing this war, it is as the
ancients once said, the universe eternally seeks balance in this way,
and mirrors the futile works of men to battle for the supremacy of
"right" and "wrong". There is no end in sight. Their toil will all come to dust and godless dark hours.
It is as it was when
Chekov saw the long winter approaching.
In other news, I think my creative juices are once more flowing. I
intend to put up my blogger soon and dedicate it to my "solo project",
Miles From Nazareth.*(Ryan Leng, see footnote) When I do put this site
up, it will contain lyrics and stuff. Basically anything I am working
on in my spare time that I find fits my loose conditions for art.
I hope to get my four track back soon and record some stuff. Wish
me luck.
And in case I don't see you, good afternoon, good evening and goodnight.
* (Yes Ryan, it was always called that. I swear to God. I
already know you will say that I told you Miles Of Nazareth, and
probably say you like that better than my actual title... so fuck you
in advance. I yield to your opinion. You are ALWAYS right. But again,
fuck you, just because you're right doesn't mean I have to listen. I
can be very wrong, but very righteous about it, and that will make me
SEEM more right. Trying to persuade me otherwise will avail you as much
as throwing stones at a waterfall, and trying to knock it down. I will
be impenetrable. Just like Denis Leary.)
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| It rained and it rained.
Okay, so I guess everyone is up and leaving. Ryan has left Xanga for
good, I thought maybe Mark was gonna start posting again, but I feel
he's done too. Jonathan is few and far between, being as it is that
he's living on breakfast cereals and a steady diet of alchohol in some
far land that I wish myself to be wandering through in an obscure haze.
As it stands, though, I am running out of steam.
So I'm putting on the black funeral suit and marching. I might not post
again for awhile, then again, maybe I will. Depends if something comes
up worth talking about. Eventually I will probably switch over to this
new blogger thing, which evidentally, will work better, seem more
professional, and even heal my wounds with its holy touch. Until then,
expect me to keep checking and posting on everyone else's xangas... er,
for those of you who still have them.
The tides of change seem inevitable. When the grim reaper steps up,
what the hell you gonna do? I mean, damn it feels good to be a gangster.
-The Kenosha Kid
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| Because I have nothing better to say to any of you, and because I know
that I need to focus on not failing out of this school right now, I
hereby officially promote my friend Darkness and his xanga, which can
be found here: THE END OF ALL THAT IS SACRED!
Things I also encourage you to do are:
A) Watch Lost wednesday night, because although I'm not ACTUALLY
watching it right now, I have been, and it almost makes me feel like
life is worth living.
B) Non-gamers be warned, exposure to my super-geekdom imminent! Check
out the new Zelda game, which looks so good it actually takes my mind
off of sex. Damn, that's hot... THE HOTTEST THING SINCE SCARLETT'S ASS.
C) Finally, reject all the notions of modern... uh, ummm... I dunno, I'm gonna have to think about that one...
*sidenote- And
it's probably bad to edit my post before anyone has even commented on
it. But hell, what do I care? I've realized that is indeed my problem,
which is why I bring this raging epiphany before you now! Yes, the
story of my life was unveiled to me today. It occurs to me there are
too many beautiful women! I know, I know. This should NEVER be a
complaint that a fellow can legitimately make, but look... it's
distracting. All these women running around... i can't choose! My
problem is that I spread my attention span so thin that I can't focus
my energies on any one thing, like, okay... imagine in Diablo II, you
go questing with someone who is a much higher level than you, you're so
excited by all the cool new items you try to pick em' all up, but you
can never get all of them and you end up dying or getting left behind
for your lack of wisdom.
MAYBE my problem is I use obscure video game refferences in dealing
with complex romantic issues. Anyway, this extends to other issues in
my life aswell. I think/care too much, and inevitably have to spend my
time in a sort of eternal conflict as to what exactly is important. But
mostly, I just don't accomplish anything because I'm so busy
multitasking and overwhelming myself with cool ideas that I will never
follow through on. So instead of actually getting anything accomplished
I flounder in obscurity whilst I COULD just be fueling off of where I
am instead of where I want to be, and actually enjoy myself and be
rewarded.
Think about it, some hot girl(guy) you see on the street doesn't really
matter. You can't generally bridge that gap. If you have an
oppurtunity, great. But you generally need time with someone to make
something worthwhile. Plus, it's hard to sort through all the
attractive girls and try to figure out... okay, who among you will be
available and willing, and more importantly, complement me in such a
way as to be both compelling and tolerable? Excuse me while I go shoot
my own head open with a bullet to make my brains explode so that the
thinking can cease.
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| "Well," I say, letting it roll of my shoulders as if its nothing. "It will be good to be home." But my whole universe explodes.
God, this is always the way it goes. Just a little too repetitive for
comfort, honestly. In the briefest and most beautiful of ways that I
could never put to words, I produce in the most instantaneous of
fashions, a microcosm of the way our lives could be. A storm of emotion
and potential, but infinitesimal in comparison to what should be, or
what is. And then as quickly as this entire story is conceived in my
mind, it is unwritten. It is buried in the dust of times past, never to
be excavated, ney- it is incinerated. It is destroyed by fire, the fire
of a star, of a sun, of the same sun that beat down on the slaves of
the cotton fields and on those of the deserts before them. The masterpiece that I
paint of her is abstract at best, mixing colors and perspectives like I were stirring sugar and cream, but
this is why it is so easily interpreted to my specific liking- it is a
plastic image, and it is- in fact-the illusion of contour and depth
which make it so appealing. Without any announcement whatsoever,
the image is destroyed. It exists in the fraction of a second it takes
a raindrop to fall from the heavens to the earth, complex and spinning
like a chandelier or a million diamonds beneath Solomon's feet, and she
falls from what celestial grace lies just beyond my understanding by no fault of her own but because it is her
nature.
How can I have so much hate and love in such a withered heart? It isn't
conventional, it isn't even adaptive. By all rights, it has done me
more ill than good. But for an hour and a half, on friday September
2'nd from 2:00 to 3:50, she was perfection.
Ah, love. It's a motherfucker, enh?
"We drink and we fight and we smoke and we die!"
-Traditional Irish Folksong
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| Watching a lot of good movies. Listening to a lot of good music.
Reading only one good book, at this juncture, which of course is the
one listed above. House of leaves is a tribute to all that should and must be literarily acclaimed, if such words even exist. But let us move on.
And now, straight from the DANGER ROOM 007, the idea of the week is... (drum roll please)
The Profane-O-Meter!!!!!!!
The profane-o-meter is a device which will hang in your dorm
room and, with a bright lcd display, clock the number of times you or
anyone in your room swears. The trick is that different words will have
different point values, so words like "damn" and "hell" are one point,
but drop the f-bomb and you earn yourself a whopping four points.
Combination moves will earn a raw computation of those individual
scores, i.e. "Shit eating son of a bitch!" Will aquire five points, two
for shit and three for bitch. BUT, and here's the real kicker,
combining the fuck word with another explitive, such as "Fuck-ass!" (As
in a contraction) will count the big "efferoony" as FIVE points, plus
the two points warranted by ass. Bonus round!
The clock would reset every night at midnight, but the machine would
keep a running total to be revealed at the end of the year. I haven't
yet decided how bed, refferencially (is that a WORD?) speaking, using
the Lord's name in vain would be. I think perhaps its best He just sort
out those special cases on His own tab. Ash and I thought of this idea
while playing Halo, a game which we have both decided, would BREAK the
profane-o-meter like a thermometer explodes and sprays mercury
uncontrollably. It would be the apocalypse.
Rather than go into the boring details of what's occuring in my life on
a day to day basis I will mostly be posting these, ideas of the week.
Or, if I am strapped for creativity, a thought of the week, a word or
phrase of the week, a song of the week...maybe random facts or debates.
You get it. Unless of course I start writing something, something
NOT inspired by the woe and desolation that has propelled me to write
about my life in the past, especially, things that make me angry in my
life in the past. Especially, women. There are plenty of women here.
And I am plenty frustrated with them already, I'm sure. There's no need
to beat a dead horse.
So there you have it, a curt but effective synopsis of our show. Tune in next week, for more from the DANGER ROOM...
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