Eclectic Oatmeal

Crucial Learning Center for the Lame.

Posted in boredom, Cosplay, Posers, resentment of the world by Bryan on November 18, 2008
Hail, Hail!

I am stranded on an island called, “The computer lab.” I dont even have the unfinished work for my lame play, which would be my paddle. While someone stares over my shoulder insessantly, odding me out beyond control. It might not seem awkward on paper, but when you’re typing about that person who is staring over your shoulder, reading what you’re typing, its awkward. Especially when he gets super defensive when I get angered over the computer, and then tries to discuss with me video games. I want to claw him in the face with my monkey paw. Seriously, this kid is the lamest of creepy nerds. Rumor has it, he touched himself while watching fine art in a class.

Also, he sits like L from Death Note. Which angers me. All of those people who watch a show and suck away all of the coolness by trying to act like the character. “Oh I’m Kakashi!” or “Oh, I’m dark and brooding.” A girl in my school dyed her hair black, just to look like an anime character. Mother Earth would not approve. I think she would sprout out little barklings and human leaf people to obliterate the anime addicted wabanease. Hateness incarnate. Loud ass, colorful, obtrusive garments somehow look better in a cartoon! Ever see someone dressed as Mickey Mouse? No, because Mickey dresses like a dumbass, like most anime characters. Now, I dont hate anime. The gods I worship smile upon good anime, they radiantly shine their UV rays of Deism down on great anime.

Direct to Helmet.

Posted in Chelsea, DnD, Emo, Play, Quade, Quel' Tor, Shi Tzu by Bryan on November 18, 2008

Dear fellow soviets, I am bored and lazy. Oddly, lazy enough to start writing (typing) a play. Much fun and imagination will flow out of that process like sweet syrup from a maple tree. It basically consists of me thinking of the weirdest names, trying to come up with a floor plan, and not wanting to sound too pushy with my descriptions of how the actors are supposed to act. Even though I know that this wont be performed in any large audiences, seeing as its a play about of group of people playing dungeons and dragons. A man can dream though, and this man dreams of reading something to his Creative Writing class without wanting to roll around in a puddle or a stormdrain. Jolly me and my stormdrain shannigans, I almost got kicked out by an aqua-rat tenant, Quel’ Tor! (Quel’ Tor shares his little aquatic mammal shanty with Shi Tzu, the illustrius pearl thief who fled to the sewers to hid from the Persian Police. She is a dog, so she is the brawn of the operation. I dont believe Quel’ Tor knows about her sordid past though, if he did, she’d probably rip out his veins with her sharp canine teeth. That or pee on newspaper.)

Speaking of things that flowed, my tears flew out of my eye flaps in Language Arts on Thursday. After that emopost, I went to my LA class. Inwhich I missplaced crucial documents in the theater room. My self esteem already beaten to a pulp by my own psyche, I start quietly sobbing. As Chelsea stares down at me with lecherous, vengeful eyes (She cut her bangs in mourning due to her failed attempt at being a makeout friend to a guy. She also failed at cutting her bangs, she tried a diagonal cut. Not natural cut, god, I need to draw you a picture of that later.) Mr.Quade (In shock of my outragous display of humanity) stared at me and continued checking off his “People Who Deserve to be in Honors LA List.” I huddle my head down and silently sniffled. My class gave me the dignity to just ignore me in my pile of filth, and I thank them for that. If it was a class I wasnt trying to impress with my “suaveness” I would have wailed out loud like widows from Sicily

Emo Post.

Posted in Uncategorized by Bryan on November 13, 2008

I can honestly say that I’m nearing the breaking point that most crazy people get to when they cut off their ear or wear crocs. Everything is just increasing the intensity of my anxiety, I’m tempted to flail my arms and scream just because my hair is greasy and I’m constantly surrounded by attention whores that match my need for glory.
The baby cat isnt helping.
I’m nearing the finish line. I’m almost done bullshitting around with my useless comrades whom I only talk to because they are in the same class as me, I’m losing my cool, I’m losing my flair. I just want to drown in a jar of jello, and fill my lungs with the wiggly~jiggly substance.
In school I’m tempted to start crying just for the mere fact that I dont see myself living past twenty. I look up colleges and make plans, but in the back of my head I see no point. I’m a failure, I’m walking on a road to knowhere. Its just pointless, I should just drop my dreams at the door and go along for a lame ride, working at Giant Eagle like my father. Making faux anniversary cards that only signal the yearning to go back to artschool, to prove everyone wrong.
God, I wish I had a crystal ball to show me what my future lies ahead of me, god, I’m so sick of waiting around for an answer.

I should just go home.

Posted in Uncategorized by Bryan on November 5, 2008

Its no secret that many people think I am going to hell, and by their rule sets, I would have to agree with them. I do drugs, I talk about sex, and I love two guys going at it. Still, Hell doesnt sound bad. It has 2 of my favorite letter, 2! Besides that, it wouldnt be that bad. I would probably relax in the hot-tobesque volcano. While a scantily clad devil prods me with a red trident. After the miserable incinerations, and have my skin bubbling from the hell-bath. I would move 1000 pound boulders while talking to other sinners. Such as prostitutes, pornstars, gay pornstars, gamblers, and mafia men! Basically, even though I’m being tortured for eternity, atleast I get to spend time with some interesting people.

On the flipside, on the off chance of me going to heaven, that might suck even more. Even though I’m weightlessly floating on comfy clouds, and bowling with angels. It doesnt seem appealing. Finding a one night stand would kill me, and hanging out with the people I hate (A.K.A Born Again Conservatives who whisper nasty-nothings under their breath about me) would crowd around the cloudy golf course. I would hang myself with a halo.

My ideal heaven? It would be communistic, except it would work. People would just come home to find food awaiting on my lounging couch, thing. That is like a paisley drug trip pattern that are constantly changing. Oh, yeah, everyone would constantly be drunk and orgasming. Destroying the need to actually be sober. Also, there would be no consequences! Just because you make-out with a spongey haired loser who fails at singing the national anthem at a football game, doesnt give him the right to walk around calling you “String Bean” to everyone who mentions your name. One who would do this would have their orgasm/drunk existence removed, and they shall be sent into a dark,bland, and blaise forest inwhich they have to eat from the unbeloved Puu Puu beans. They are called “Puu Puu Beans” for a reason. MUAHAHAAW.

Ah, life would be good.