Crush Crush

I keep thinking what I want to get out of this blog. I'm itching to receive comments.

To sort of talk about myself I'll tell everyone about the kind of female I'm "into." (This is so damn trite, isn't it?) Or, to be more precise, the women I've always thought are really "cool." (I'm a dweeb)

Juliette Lewis, "Mallory" from the movie "Natural Born Killers," is my favourite. I always looked for her in other movies but I never saw her in any other films. She did that movie so perfectly. And her voice. Damn!

Joss Stone. Again with the voice. And she performs barefoot! Whew.

Dharma, from "Dharma and Greg," (I just spent about thirty minutes yelling at my neighbour. Now all the above doesn't seem important at all... damn this place!) And Gwen Stefani...

BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH LET US SKIP AHEAD.

Pale Faces

(I just get so sick of this life)

(I'm so sick of fighting this system)

I think about this girl in my hometown, Shari, who committed suicide by taking a bottle of pills and a bottle of whiskey with her up Beaver (my hometown) Canyon.

Did she listen to her favourite CD on her way up (the scenic drive up) the canyon? Cry? Laugh? Feel relief at the end of her suffering? Or fear and despair at... for what she would miss? Did she pick her favourite spot to pull over at? What was her last thought?

It seems I've spent my whole life wondering these things about all those who I've watched pass away from suicide or accidents.

It's entirely possible I'm morbid and obsessed with death. And someone once they die I feel closer to them. Like they've now joined me in death.

But part of me wonders: "But they were good people. Whereas I... why not me?"

It's just been such a long road. A lonely road. I don't belong here (prison). These others' attitudes are just mean. You have no idea! - You should see human beings spending ten, twenty, fifty years sniffing psychotropics!

It's like they all have rabies. It makes me wanna cry because they hurt me so bad with their cruelties - because I choose to not affiliate or succumb to the "herd instinct" - they never help me out. I get stuff stolen (from me). My esteem is thrashed about, etc, etc. We aren't friends! At all!

But I'm still sad for them. They hurt people because they can do nothing else.

"Evil" isn't, I don't even think "good" is, seen in the right light.

Evil laughs! Good cries! But the world thinks if someone's laughing it's gotta be good! Nope. They laugh here. All day. And there's not an ounce of good in it!

But then - I don't belong out there... (free world) I never feel like I fit in. People... "people." That's a funny word, isn't it?

Humankind. We all are so alone because we all hurt each other so much (avoidance). It's depressing - I just wish I fit in somewhere. Somewhere where evil laughing and "free" world fight of flight wasn't the norm.

I look at the nicely-dressed people in these magazines (people, Ensign, Awake! etc) (and let's not forget the first magazines I've looked at in five years) and, it's just... it's like they are "good" people.

But, it's like... it's like they are "pretty" people. If they weren't so pretty they wouldn't be photographed in the first place! Does prettiness make one good>

East answer. Prettiness "fools" one into thinking one's good. The same as laughter. You hear it, think: "someone's having fun." When... when, really, someone's being destroyed at the expense of that laughter!

Then you get presidents, senators, etc, voted into office because they are photogenic. Only because they are "pretty people." Corruption doesn't count against you as bad if you are pretty. Common sense and ability take a back seat to a smile.

You hear about elections of old where JFK and Reagon sparred politically. Half of the nation watched it televised. The other half on the radio. Radio people say Reagon was the winner. TV People JFK.

How are we to trust that?

Maybe sexual evolution in humans has made sight a faulty sense? Or after billions of years we evolved eyes that only accept "pretty." And ears and minds that still accept common sense and goodness. As long as you don't look at what that common sense looks like in a suit jacket... [and it was Nixon and JFK, my mind is an iffy thing here, friends].

I wish someone would choose for me a wife like olden days (Joss Stone Green? :)) I wish I was a member of a large family where I have my old bedroom to return to. A pile of stuff that is [?] digging through, bringing back ten year-old memories.

I wish our society didn't make it so hard for people like me... then I look at these others and think: "but they must be controlled..." :(

I'm like this ball of clay that's spent ten years refusing to be molded into derisive laughter, looking at magazine photos of pretty people wanting to be happy like them. But knowing they're just models; just actors and actresses...

Getting paid to smile?

Or imprisoned into enlightenment?

Then dying of fatigue either way.

Huge eyes, painted smiles, sight or sound? - Love, Brandon

You can write parole support letters for me whether you are pretty or not :) At: To:

State of Utah
Board of Pardons and Parole
448 East 6400 South, Suite 300
Murray, UT 84107

Use my full name and number, Brandon Green 147075; tell them we are all pretty people. Thanks.