Natural Selection and Overpopulation

One thing I've learned since being homeless for three years is this: survival is key especially within the concrete jungle, you need both street smarts as well as intellectual smarts, you need to let go of all morality and most of all people are expendable. As I look at the fuked up world I live in, I constantly see addiction, abuse, mental illness and corruption which fuels my hatred towards this fucked up capitalist society which has always rejected me and treated me like an outsider. The world is overpopulated and I truly think these mass murders are doing good. I have always described myself as a misanthropic iconoclastic individual despite trying to fit into society, it seems as if I will never fit in, no matter what I do or don't do. Absurdist I suppose but there really isn't anything I can do.

My Digital Photography new pix

Fresh new digital photography by me.
DJ DethSmoke, Kannibal Kannabis
The Unabashed White Trash Iconoclast

Perhaps...

I'm seriously thinking about bashing my head in with a rock until I'm brain damaged. They say ignorance is bliss and intellectual people are less happy than others. I'm jealous of retards because they're too stupid to feel pain. I'm jealous of psychopaths because they don't feel anything. I just don't wanna fucking feel anymore

If I were rich and famous, fucked the girl I loved, never experienced heartbreak and abuse, would I finally be happy, or would I find something else to be miserable about? Perhaps I'm just a naturally pessimistic person, perhaps the darkness is where I belong.

Afterlife, No Life, Wasted Life?

A certain scenario has popped into my head today as I've been feeling depressed and suicidal as of late. It is a paradox I am faced with - "the suicide paradox." I do not have the answers on what happens after death, whether or not there is an afterlife, but I think of these two outcomes with honestly has kept me from making a rash decision. If there is no afterlife, then my life was indeed without any specific value or purpose. If there is an afterlife then it would be a bit of an irritation as I would not want to live a life after ending another. I have been reading a bit of Albert Camus and studying absurdist philosophy and it seems as if my only choice is to let it go and accept everything and anything as nothing. I waste a lot of my time seeking approval from others, morbidly reflecting on the past, and worrying about my future. In all actuality these are things that I cannot change nor do I wish to further waste my time trying to change these things. After posting this blog I may walk out of the library and get stabbed, shot, or run over by a car, or I may not. The human race especially in America has come to have an overall sense of entitlement, greed and hedonistic gluttony. I am human myself so I recognize I have these character flaws, and like a typical American human I am easily sucked into consumerism and social approval. I am not special as a human being, my problems are not unique and my plight for existence in life is ironically causing me to waste my life. So at this point, I could say the serenity prayer or just say "fuck it" and try to move on, like yeah this feeling of depression and regret sucks but getting fucked up on drugs and writing a nihilistic blog hasn't worked out so well. I'm more scared of a wasted life than I am death, because death is inevitable but my life can work out in a lot of ways, it's like a gamble. I can only play the cards I'm dealt I guess.

Smoke Weed. Listen to Music. Post Memes. Cry. Jack Off. Life. The End.

Digital Photography, Vaporwave + new projects

I take no credit for these works above, reposted from "Tony Hawk Pro Aesthetic" Facebook page.

As you may know, I'm an underground EDM producer, I go by the names Kannibal Kannabis and DJ DethSmoke, formally known as DJ SCAVENG3R. I've been producing music since 2012, originally in the style of horrorcore and chopped n screwed, but around 2013 I experimented with dubstep, trance, trap and chiptune. Recently I've been increasingly interested in vaporwave and trillwave music, which is both a musical genre and digital art scene. Back when I was in high school I took two digital photography classes as electives and recently I've gotten back into digital photography. and here are some of my best works, most of them recent:

Also, if anyone is interested in checking out my music, here's some links:

Soundcloud: https://soundcloud.com/demonic-chronic 

Reverbnation: https://www.reverbnation.com/djscaveng3r420 

I'm taking a hiatus from music to work on my art and my writing.

Expect to see some more poetry on this blog as well as philosophical essays.

The Life of Tweaky Dave [R.I.P.]

BURGER KING

DAVE: You’re fuckin’ up, man. Don’t be an asshole. If I was doing something on people who lived in houses, I wouldn’t say they were all the same. Would you? You can’t say that about street kids. You can’t take me, Cookie, Ziggy, and Freckie, and lump us together. The streets are like rock and roll: short, fast, and hard. James Dean would have died of AIDS if he were still alive. This is not a round trip ticket. There’s no goin’ back. My life story would make a million bucks if it were a film. The street is my TV set. I can take a hit of acid or a shot of speed while a fuckin’ normal 16-year-old hangs out in a mall smoking Marlboros. Fuck if I know wh . . ."

BON JOVI runs in, panting.

BON JOVI: Someone fucking robbed me, man. Fucking Frank stole all my shit, man. Fuck. I’ll never trust a motherfucker out here again. Fuck, he better be on the fucking highway, man. You gotta cigarette?

He leaves as fast as he had arrived.

DAVE: Just like prime time TV, man. Something always happening.

JIM: What are your dreams, Dave?

DAVE: See the world. Fuck all the girls I wanna fuck—in a bed instead of in the dirt. Go to all the concerts I wanna go to. Write all the music I wanna write.

VYPER comes in while we’re making a list of our favorite musicians.

VYPER: I just got outta jail, man. They were telling me I had felonies and shit. I was in for kidnapping and being under the influence. I was in there planning out my whole life and I decided that I’m going into a drug rehab program. And then the motherfuckers let me out. Shit.

DAVE: Yeah, and I’m going into a tweek program. Free dope. Gimme a marker, Jim. I can feel a song comin’ on.

A pregnant RAG DOLL cruises by searching for a TV crew. She heard they are looking for a homeless teenager who is pregnant, and they are willing to pay.

RAG DOLL: People are nice to me now that I’m going to have a baby. Treat me nice and courteous. How come they weren’t so nice to me before?

DAVE: Where the fuck were all these film crews and photographers when I was ten years old and really needed them?

TWO DAYS LATER, HOLLYWOOD BOULEVARD

ECHO: Dave’s on five hits of acid. I’m on two.

DAVE: No wonder the whole city’s freaking out. It’s one big lake. All the hippies are swimming. I’m going to give you the yin/yang test. Ready, Echo? Are you yin or yang?

ECHO: I’m soft and slow.

DAVE: I must be yang, I’m hard and fast.

ECHO: Sure, Dave.

DAVE: Listen, Echo. I don’t care about anybody but you. I’ll support you for the rest of your life—that is if you can live offa $2 a day.

ECHO: We’ll panhandle every day.

DAVE: In front of Saks Fifth Avenue. I’ll buy you beer. I’ll ask everybody that walks by for a penny to buy you beer.

ECHO: We could make a lot of money like that.

DAVE: Jim, dude, don’t give her strawberries with her beer. It’s ugly.

ECHO: Sick! Don’t get sentimental on me, asshole.

DAVE: Baby, I love you so much I would drink your blood.

ECHO: Don’t you take anything seriously, Dave?

DAVE: I take Johnny Thunder quite seriously. I take the Rolling Stones seriously. I take God seriously. I take not taking baths seriously. And I especially take drugs seriously.

ECHO: Uh huh. Right on.

Later I’m taking pictures of tweeks and stoners outside of the 7-Eleven. All of a sudden the cops pull up and shake us down.

COP: Hands behind your back, shut up, legs spread.

I keep turning around. A cop keeps jamming his baton into my balls, saying he wants to ram my head through a plate glass window. We stand this way for maybe 20 minutes. They separate us and ask conflicting questions, trying to catch us in a lie. Then I am allowed to explain what I’m doing.

COP: Why waste your time with these kids, picture man?

SUNSET BOULEVARD

Late summer.

I buy Dave rent at Denny’s.

A bowl of oatmeal and a cup of coffee costs $1.84.

His lips are blistering. There is dried blood around his gums.

He’s been trying to sleep off the results of his latest “life without Echo” binge.

DAVE: I have hepatitis and should be in the hospital. The rumor is that I’m Jesus. And when I die they’ll rename Hollywood after me. Everyone is hanging under the bridge, shootin’ dope with Pops and his little girl dope fiends. Lorna is suckin’ dick for money. And Blade says hi. She’s doing basically the same thing I do: staying stoned for about eight months and then working for a month. Drunk Steve is still drunk. Saw him and his girlfriend two months ago. They were still out to kill each other. Rag Doll is around. She had her kid and gave it away. Freckie’s down here livin’ with Chance. He’s workin’ at a clothes store up on Melrose and drinkin’ a lot. Kristy blew him off. Hear she’s stripping for cocaine on mirrored glass in Florida. Jersey Lu split from Cruise ’cause he’s still slammin’ and she’s seven months pregnant. The cops closed Oki Dogs. The Teen Shelter’s bogus. You can’t smoke in there. You can’t sleep in there. You gotta talk to your case worker just to get something to eat. And most kids don’t wanna go through all that shit just to get a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

JIM: What’s going on with Cookie?

DAVE: Beat my meat to the toilet seat. Doo dah. Doo dah. Sure looks ugly but it feels real neat. Doo dah, doo dah, day. Drugs and sex. I love Cookie. She’ll always be true to herself. She’s straight-up nude dancin’. Perry found a magazine with a picture of her gettin’ cum shot on her. She looks damn good. She said she’d fuck me if I pierced my nose.

JIM: What about Ziggy?

DAVE: Cops got him for jaywalking. He’s in jail for possession of cocaine. He should be out by now. Him and Echo had an off again, on again love affair for awhile, ’til he told her, “Look bitch, I like dope better than I like you. And you like dope better than you like me. So get it straight.”

JIM: I heard from Echo’s mom that you two weren’t getting along.

DAVE: No, I haven’t seen her in months. I wanted to stop shootin’ dope, not only to make sure I still could, but for her. You know, go straight for her. Well, she couldn’t handle it and got all strung out. So I said fuck it. Echo and me are two different people. I hear she’s real fucked-up, hookin’ way out in Palmville, livin’ with her ex-sugardaddy Ian. No, me and her weren’t meant for each other. I used to think we were the same but we’re not. Guess I’m lookin’ for a new girlfriend. Gotta go, Jim. I have an appointment.

IAN THE SUGARDADDY

Ian decides he wants to help street kids, so he collects a bunch and brings them to his rented house out in the Valley. Calls it a “youth shelter.” Every now and then he convinces someone that he’s honest and they’ll give him a couple hundred bucks or something and he’s off on a tangent. Echo is staying there and she lives quite happily on the floor, watching TV 24 hours a day. I buy her a banana split at the Fame Cafe.

ECHO: I was sitting on the wall by IHOP and I’m, like, reading a paper and Ian, like, keeps driving by, going “C’mon, just go for a ride.” And I’m like, “I’m not working.” And he, like, parks the car and comes up and talks to me and goes, “I don’t care if you’re working. I didn’t say anything about working.” And I go, “I’m not gonna do nothing.” And he’s like, “Just come for a ride.” He’s about 30. Glasses. A little fat, says he’s into computers, and has a nice car. Well, we go to the beach and he buys me an ice cream cone and gives me his shirt when I’m cold. Says he doesn’t want anything except to hang out with a pretty and smart young person like myself. And to be my friend. And to help me. He seemed nice. I went and stayed with him. He fed me. Brought me clothes. After a while he told me he didn’t want to fuck me—that he liked older girls. But he told everyone else he does fuck me. So now I sort of fuck him and he sort of pays me.

THE BIRTH OF AMBER, December 17, 10:35 AM

Echo is in labor. At 2:00 AM, R. Sylvia (Echo’s mom) and I drive to the Crystal Hotel where we find TWACK JACK geeked on his bike, popping wheelies and trying to jump over garbage cans. His arms are flailing and he’s howling repeatedly:

TWACK JACK: I’m going to be a dad, I’m going to be a dad.

In the delivery room Twack Jack and Echo are arguing out of control. He is yelling at her between painful contractions.

TWACK JACK: Echo, you don’t understand. Why do you think I want to leave? Fuck, I’m doing this for you. I just want to go back to our room and make sure our stuff’s safe. And I don’t trust my bike in this hospital. Some doctor will probably steal it and I don’t want to miss my SSI appointment tomorrow morning.

ECHO: What a fuckin’ asshole you are Jack. You ought to check a mirror and get a good look at yourself. You selfish bastard. No doctor is going to steal your motherfuckin’ bike. Can’t you see some doctor racing around here on your bike, popping wheelies in the hall? And who gives a shit about our room right now? And why don’t you call the guy at welfare and tell him you just had a baby? Fuuuuuck! Unh.

Twack Jack leaves the hospital and doesn’t return till the next morning. By then Echo is having full blown, screaming contractions. Jack is spinning harder than when he left. The doctor keeps hinting that Echo is no good because she is a welfare case. The nurses give Echo oxygen in between the contractions. Thinking that no one is looking, Jack tries to sneak the mask away and take a hit. At 10:35 AM, Echo’s daughter, Amber, arrives. At 10:40, Twack Jack asks the doctor for the hemostats that were used to tie the umbilical cord because he needs a new roach clip.

HOSPITAL, October 22

The next time I hear from Dave it’s two months later. He is in Rancho Los Amigos Hospital.

DAVE: It’s bad, Jim. I’m swollen-yellow. My liver is shot. I have hepatitis A, B, C, and D, maybe E. The doc says that I only got six months to live.

JIM: Dave, you’ve been dying for years. I don’t know what to believe anymore.

DAVE: Truth is, I don’t either. I feel caught myself, like I’m stuck in between right and wrong. It’s so hard to explain on the phone Jim. All I want to do is sit and write it all down on some paper for you.

JIM: Dave, I don’t know if I want to know the truth anymore. It’s probably all the truth, isn’t it?

DAVE: The motherfuckin’ truth is that if I have to die here, I hope I kick it with a hell of a lot of morphine going up my veins. I’m so fuckin’ bored, Jim. They say they’re going to put me in a nursing home in a week or so. Fuck, if I do get released and I don’t like the god damn place, I promise you I’m AWOLing it to Hollywood. Shit yeah, dude, I’ll find me a gram of some down dope and get me to Oasis alley so I can straight-up slam it all.

He laughs.

DAVE: Fuck yeah, then I’ll crawl what’s left of my sorry, orphaned life out on Hollywood Boulevard and OD right there, fast and loud, on top of James Dean. Hope the motherfuckin’ street gets stained yellow from all the piss an’ tears of all my friends. Maybe somebody will even spray paint a star for me on that motherfuckin’, lyin’ “boulevard of dreams.” Jim, do me a favor and send me some Kerouac and Bukowski books, paper, and some envelopes and stamps. Then I promise I will write you back and blow your mind with the truth. Okay? I gotta go talk to the social worker. Send me some paper, okay?

I send the stuff and later I receive from Dave a note:

     Guest list for my funeral

     Anybody who wants to come (except for Tiny Waller and Doug)

     Echo and her kids

     Echo’s mom

     Jim and Susan and the kid

     Lupe

     Cookie

     Ziggy (I guess)

     Cruise and Crash

     Pops (just in case I want to get high on my way to hell)

     Anne-Marie (but not Nigel, her boyfriend)

     Freckie, Sue, Tori, Casper, Hippie Chick, Psycho, not Tank

       (no assholes except me allowed)

     Tweeky Michelle, Boss Bitch, Coma, Playboy, Destiny, Weedhopper

     Pup Dog, Drunk Ray, Shorty, Hippie Dave, and Li’l Bit,

     of course Doper Molly, Perry, Wea, Crow, Universe, Blade,

     Officers Ruby and Moore

     Mindy the Counselor

     and Gabe if he hadn’t died of AIDS,

     Cher (What the fuck)

     Dylan, Kieth, Sid and Nancy (if she promises not to whine)

     Axel and Slash, Yoko Ono, Jim Morrison, Neil Young, Jerry Garcia,

     Johnny Thunder, Johnny Ramone, and Johnny Cash

     Madonna and Michelle Shocked (I would fuck either)

     Mozart, Beethoven, and definitely Mahler

     Bob Marley, Mick Jagger, Iggy, Lou Reed,

     Willy Nelson, Loretta Lynn, Gore Vidal, Stephen King, Henry Miller

     Ursula Leguin, John Lennon, Dostoevsky, Marx, Lenin, and Freud

     Kerouac (he’s pretty much God_—_he can say the prayer)

     Allen Ginsberg, Robert Frank, Picasso, Henry Rollins

     Trent from Nine Inch Nails

     Ken Kesey, Neal Cassady, John Steinbeck,

     James Dean, James Brown, Elvis (the fat fuck)

     All corrupt politicians

     Jesus Christ and Buddha

     and all my enemies, including (maybe)

     my mom and dad.

Philosophical Paradoxes

Today I'd like to talk about philosophical paradoxes, most notably with hedonism and nihilism. Now I've long considered myself a "progressive nihilist" and have outwardly admitted to being a hedonist - I find myself naturally attracted to escapism, such as music, art, literature, video games and film, and I've always been somewhat of a sugar addict, sex addict, drug addict, etc. Overindulgence is socially acceptable in modern American culture, and depression and anxiety are all too common.

Fredrich Nietzsche said:

What is good? Everything that heightens the feeling of power in man, the will to power, power itself.

What is bad? Everything that is born of weakness.

What is happiness? The feeling that power increases — that a resistance is overcome.

Hedonism is a philosophy that promotes more pleasure and less pain, but in all actuality it would be difficult to enjoy happiness and pleasure without knowing pain and sorrow. I've said before I find it ironic that the more I suffer in life the more I actually want to progress and enjoy my life. Someone who has never been through hardships and has a good life may one day find himself bored, irritable and discontent, wanting excitement and thrill as opposed to his boring but happy life. Somebody who has been through hell and back and then later on finds his purpose or his happiness will remember the dark days with a melancholy nostalgia, realizing those hardships made him who he is today.

Another paradox is the constant chasing of pleasure, a most common example would be of an addict. Once the addict realizes that he is in a constant chase of the next high, and as tolerance grows the more and more an individual uses, then he is a classic example of the hedonist paradox. What was once fun, exciting and euphoric has now left him alone, living in darkness and fear.

As an ex-nihilist, I can say there are many paradoxes within this highly misunderstood philosophy. Most nihilists are usually just extremely angry, depressed and apathetic people who don't see a point to anything in life because of problems in society and the inevitable fear of death and one's own morality. As a nihilist goes on living his life while saying life is meaningless it is almost hypocritical and somewhat of a defense mechanism. When I was 17 I gave up on life and found it meaningless, started using drugs and dropped out of high school and then roamed the streets. Recently, I found myself wandering around aimlessly, chasing the same high that I wanted, doing the same bullshit on a different day, and realized I was wasting my life with self-loathing narcissistic behavior, wasting my time being sad and angry over things I just could not change, and the drugs / sex / party lifestyle just wasn't as fun as it used to be.

I'm not talking down to nihilist or hedonist philosophy, I've considered myself one for many years. However the constant chase for drugs and sex, the bloated feeling of overeating, and the depression from doing absolutely nothing in my life have made me want to progress as an individual. As human beings we all have vices and overindulge. I went to an AA meeting where half the room were joking about being addicted to ice cream, and of course half those bums / old geezers are guzzling coffee and smoking cigarettes, which I will admit confused me at first, but then I realized: some addictions are deadly, such as alcohol and meth in my case, whereas some overindulgence is ok and a little bit healthy, like ice cream or marijuana or video games. There has to be a gray area, a middle ground if you will, when being a hedonist. Abstinence is for monks, moderation is key. I also realize that maybe there is no grand purpose to life but we as individuals need to find or create that purpose for ourselves. I cannot truly say there is no God because I do not claim to have all the world's knowledge, and I cannot say that God is dead because I don't have knowledge if he had ever existed, and I cannot say there is life after death so all I can say is enjoy your life, be kind and don't have too much fun. ^_^

20th Birthday, Changed Philosophy

Today is my 20th birthday, and looking back on my life it's been a crazy trip, especially these last two years. I lost it all, went through a lot of darkness, but at the same time it was an incredible journey, I've met a lot of cool people and I've learned a lot about myself. I've struggled and almost gave up numerous times but I'm happy I haven't yet. I've struggled with depression and addiction most of my life, but today I am thankful for all my friends and just to be alive

I used to consider myself a nihilist and "hardcore Atheist," as you can read on my old blog, but honestly I realize that was just a psychological defense mechanism I was using to hide the fact that I was sad, alone, isolated, living in constant fear and anxiety, etc. What I've learned throughout my journey in life is that every individual has to find their own purpose to life. Too many people in our society are trendy as fuck, wasting too much time on their phones and caring too much of what others think of them, which is how they lose their individuality. An anonymous quote comes to mind, "you were born an original, don't die a copy." I find it funny as most humans claim to be all about individuality and yet we all flock to a clique or group for acceptance when in reality it doesn't matter. Just be yourself and fuck what other people say; it's cliche as fuck but I feel as if I've wasted the past five or six years of my life playing the victim and living in misery. Do you still live in angry days?

One last thing I've realized:
living on the streets I've met some cool motherfuckers, smart motherfuckers, dumb motherfuckers and crazy motherfuckers and I've learned a lot about life through all of them.

Memories of Psychedelics

I've experimented with a lot of drugs in my life, and I absolutely love psychedelics. Two of the happiest moments of my life were the first time I did shrooms and a couple of months ago when I was trippin on acid at WalMart with my friends. What I learned on my first shroom trip was I had allowed myself to be happy for the first time, because I have BPD and severe depression. When I was on acid recently, my buddy showed me a song called "Angry Days" by Lagwagon and I started to realize at the peak of my trip that humans are the only ones who put barriers and complicate the world, and we as a species are capable of more than what society dictates. Nature in itself is anarchy, and I've noticed on my journeys that there are usually two types of anarchists: those who want freedom and those who want destruction. Different drugs affect different people differently, but usually psychedelics have been a positive experience, they usually allow me to think of life from another perspective and allow me to be more open minded. I used to consider myself an existential nihilist, thinking life was without purpose, but psychedelics have changed my thinking to realize that I, as an individual, cannot possibly have all the answers to the world and its creation.

Anyway, I'm thinking about leaving Durango and either going to Job Corps or to Mass. with my homie. I'm honestly not happy in Colorado and would like a change of scenery. I haven't been able to post much lately but I'll update more often.

Introduction to Destruction

Hello, welcome to my blog. This is just a place for me to rant, vent, bitch or whatever. Sometimes I'll do album / movie / video game reviews but not often. I'm an anarchist, agnostic, poet, philosopher, rapper, DJ, gutterpunk, raver, etc. I have borderline personality disorder and possible ADHD, so that's something to expect from my writing. I have a fascination with macabre, horror films, serial killers and mass murderers.

Let me explain my personal belief systems of "anarchy." I don't view the word as a synonym for chaos. I don't think it is an excuse to go out and do some violent crazy shit because quite honestly I view that as a last resort. I just personally believe that capitalism has failed in the American society and dictatorship ruins a great idea that socialism sounds like. I'm somewhat of a misanthrope; I have many friends, but I choose to be antisocial because people in their very nature are greedy, egotistical and hypocritical. Less people, less drama, that's just how I think. As an anarchist I feel as if I don't need a police force or an overseeing government to determine my own moral code, I know right from wrong and have done various good and bad things throughout my 19 years on this planet.

I am an agnostic; I've described myself as an Atheist, Nihilist and Satanist throughout my life, I find that ALL religion is a form of control and is no different than a lunatic who runs a cult. However, I do not have all the answers nor does anyone else, who is to say God truly exists or doesn't, or maybe God is an idea? Who the fuck knows, it truly doesn't matter, the only purpose in life is to live and be happy, I think we can all agree on this although everyone's individual pursuit of happiness differs.

I am a recovering addict, I'm quitting because my health is declining way beyond my years. I've struggled with addiction, poverty, abuse and mental illness my entire life and will probably continue down the road, ain't no rags to riches story here. As Hunter S. Thompson once wrote, "I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone, but they've always worked for me."