Tuesday, June 27, 2006
(6:39 AM) | m2:
Tuesday Hatred: En martes, ni te cases ni te embarques...I want my hate and hatred to be a loathing--a loathing of anger so furious. I hate that my hatred may be interpreted otherwise.
You don't know me, and I hate you for it. If you do know me, chances are that I don't hate you, but, you know, I may very well. That is to say, I may very well hate you, your guts, and your smell--Only in that order and combination, though.
I have a lot of hate to voice. I will (continue to) voice it here, on this day, in these intense moments, in what follows.
I hate that the entities that read this will try to compete with my hatred. A rock, for instance, may continue to just sit there (in competition). A tree will turn away from the sun (in competition). A monkey will not screech (in competition). Vapors will vaporize, and the wind will wind (both, in competition). A human--a human will say the dumbest things. But, what, really, is a human?
I hate that most people do not realize that the rocks, trees, monkeys, vapors, and wind can all read.
I hate that Tuesday is considered either the second or the third day of the week, between Monday and Wednesday.
I hate television and radio commercials. I really, truly, authentically, deeply and genuinely despise television and radio commercials--unless they make me laugh, or entertain me to some degree. But those are few and far between.
I hate constipation, nausea, diarrhea and vomiting, but only when they occur all at once.
I hate rabies.
I hate rabid animals.
I hate Old Yeller.
I hate the creatures that have been eating my young watermelon plants. The watermelon plants will not make it--they will die.
I hate my young watermelon plants, because they are going to die. I wanted some homegrown watermelons. Is that too much to ask?
I hate every band that sounds anything like Blink 182, Sum 41, et cetera, ad infinitum, ad nauseum, ad vomitorium.
I hate thieves (generally).
I hate liars.
I hate words uncommonly held, but commonly used.
I hate egomaniacs.
I hate rapists, bigots, and pimps.
I hate flooded basements, mold, overflowing trashcans, and unpleasant smells.
I hate piss-stained carpets, piss-stained carpet padding, piss-stained wooden floors, and the creatures that did the pissing to make the carpets, padding, and wooden floors piss-stained.
I hate being assaulted by light and sound.
I hate cruelty.
I hate machismo. I hate chauvinism. I hate players, player-haters, and, of course, I hate the game.
I hate dry eyes. I hate fatigue.
I hate methamphetamines.