Shut Up
Blow me away
3rd of December 2006
I'm so tired...and yet my being refuses to sleep.
My brain continues its activity despite the fact that any physical effort stopped some time ago. And despite the fact that this is the first time in weeks that my bench has been so warm, this warmth is no relief.
I can't sleep and I keep wondering into the dark philosophies of insomnia and sleep deprivation and this aggravates me.
A diseased mind that contemplates its own disease...
Can it be, perhaps, that Matt's hand was comforting?
But it wakes me up, how can it help me sleep?
Brain that has always been ill, please stop and let me sleep...
14th of June 2010
'Michael Duchamp, the guitarist of Shut Up! grunge band, has been described by many as the mastermind behind the new generation's rebellion, the father of a grunge that has enslaved a much greater mass than Nirvana, a genre that described him more than the people behind those words would have thought.
What seemed to be only a theatrical play onstage, done for the sole purpose of entertainment, was discovered to be the true behavior of the guitarist, an excess of violence that he proved in the press conference yesterday morning at the(...)' and blah-blah.
Can you believe it?!
Am I violent? Really, I wouldn't have been so revolted if they said I was pathetic or unstable in some sort of way(because I'm unstable all the way to my core), but violent?
Fuck, these people are retarded; or they know what flavor to put on shit so people will eat it and ask for more...
30th of September 2001
Sometimes I deliberately destroy my hopes in order to achieve a stronger one that lacks all the mistakes the previous and more numerous ones had.
For example, I ripped my ideal to particles of unwanted values to reach this new ideal that feels much more complete; I crave for perfection in a certain domain, though you have already realized until this point that I don’t give a rat’s ass what happens to the rest of my life.
I want to become great; I seek a greater state of spirit, a greater strength to every external stimuli that my brain vomits right back. I don’t want fame, I don’t want adoration, please stop reading if you haven’t understood yet that I hate these sort of things.
I only want perfection. I want to play my beast better than its previous owner…
I want to make you proud of me, Robbie…
I want to play your music and make people listen, not only to how beautiful you made it sound, but to how profound it really was…to how you didn’t sing for yourself, but for everyone else, for their happiness, for their well-being, for their smiles.
You said that a genuine smile is hard to find these days, but when it peeks from underneath the rough outside of a face, it makes it so much more special. Being less profound in my way of perceiving things, I can only compare it to a movie: if you see it once every couple of weeks, it becomes boring and distasteful, but if you see it once 10 years or so, it becomes pleasant…
I want to make people smile for you, Robbie…
I want…I want to make you smile, Robbie, wherever you are…
I'm so tired...and yet my being refuses to sleep.
My brain continues its activity despite the fact that any physical effort stopped some time ago. And despite the fact that this is the first time in weeks that my bench has been so warm, this warmth is no relief.
I can't sleep and I keep wondering into the dark philosophies of insomnia and sleep deprivation and this aggravates me.
A diseased mind that contemplates its own disease...
Can it be, perhaps, that Matt's hand was comforting?
But it wakes me up, how can it help me sleep?
Brain that has always been ill, please stop and let me sleep...
14th of June 2010
'Michael Duchamp, the guitarist of Shut Up! grunge band, has been described by many as the mastermind behind the new generation's rebellion, the father of a grunge that has enslaved a much greater mass than Nirvana, a genre that described him more than the people behind those words would have thought.
What seemed to be only a theatrical play onstage, done for the sole purpose of entertainment, was discovered to be the true behavior of the guitarist, an excess of violence that he proved in the press conference yesterday morning at the(...)' and blah-blah.
Can you believe it?!
Am I violent? Really, I wouldn't have been so revolted if they said I was pathetic or unstable in some sort of way(because I'm unstable all the way to my core), but violent?
Fuck, these people are retarded; or they know what flavor to put on shit so people will eat it and ask for more...
30th of September 2001
Sometimes I deliberately destroy my hopes in order to achieve a stronger one that lacks all the mistakes the previous and more numerous ones had.
For example, I ripped my ideal to particles of unwanted values to reach this new ideal that feels much more complete; I crave for perfection in a certain domain, though you have already realized until this point that I don’t give a rat’s ass what happens to the rest of my life.
I want to become great; I seek a greater state of spirit, a greater strength to every external stimuli that my brain vomits right back. I don’t want fame, I don’t want adoration, please stop reading if you haven’t understood yet that I hate these sort of things.
I only want perfection. I want to play my beast better than its previous owner…
I want to make you proud of me, Robbie…
I want to play your music and make people listen, not only to how beautiful you made it sound, but to how profound it really was…to how you didn’t sing for yourself, but for everyone else, for their happiness, for their well-being, for their smiles.
You said that a genuine smile is hard to find these days, but when it peeks from underneath the rough outside of a face, it makes it so much more special. Being less profound in my way of perceiving things, I can only compare it to a movie: if you see it once every couple of weeks, it becomes boring and distasteful, but if you see it once 10 years or so, it becomes pleasant…
I want to make people smile for you, Robbie…
I want…I want to make you smile, Robbie, wherever you are…