A Boring Turn of Events

So yeah, I'm staying home today. At least, for now. Not investigating. Haven't found anything for a while, and plus,

"On the Backs of Angels," from Dream Theater's new album, A Dramatic Turn of Events, is being released as a single today.


And I'm gonna listen to that. I'll offer my opinion on it here. o: But it'll be at about 11 AM EST, and just.. yeah. If I investigate today, it'll be after that song's released.

...fuckin' Dream Theater, man! New drummer! 8D

Hard Drive: "cexperiment2"

Found this in a different computer's "My Videos" section thing.

That music back there's familiar. The video seems to skip, towards the end, forward about.. ten minutes?

Hard Drive: "cexperiment1"

A comment recommended checking the computers for stuff, and this was on the desktop. I'll look around more.

Other suggestions included checking that wall where the door was, which, I admit, I've already done, but I can check again and take better pictures.

There was another suggestion, wasn't there? Check the Xbox? I'll try that.

Investimigate me, mistress. :D

Okay. I'm better. I'm better, I think. I'm trying to get away from my current problems. Obsessing over the investigation kept me up before; let's see if it can keep me up now.

I went to the house. You know those computers I uploaded pictures of, like.. a million years ago? Well, I tried one of 'em, hooked it up to a monitor, tried it, it works. I'm at the house now.

What should I investigate? Anything for me to take pictures of? Videos of? Anything to test?


My video camera is charged and ready. Now that I know these computers work, I can easily go to the house and investigate and conveniently upload my findings swiftly enough. So take your time with recommending ideas, but if you think of any, go right ahead and post 'em.

I need to keep myself distracted, after all. If this crazy investigation's what it takes, then so be it. Not like I have anything better to do.

I'm going to sleep now.

You tell me we can stop the rain.


You tell me that we all can change.


You tell me we can find something to wash the tears away.


Yo utle me WE can sotp tjhe rain.
YOU tlel me THAT waer call can chante.
You tell em WE can tidfj soemthing to WHAX THE TEARS.

v

We move in circles, balanced all the while on a gleaming razor's edge.


A perfect sphere colliding with our fates.


This story ends where it began.


I've stopped crying now.

iv

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i never wanted to becoem somelone like him so secure content to live each day sjut like the last i wadsS sure i knew that thsi wasd not for me and i wanted so much more far rbetond what ai could see so i seowre thtta i'd neceer be soemeon  like him

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step by step we try controlling our fate when we finally start living its become too late

Why am I getting all these followers now? My life's slowed almost to a screeching halt. Where were you guys back when I needed help deciding what to do?

I cried more tonight. I mean.. there's good news; I have some sort of good news. But my emotions are in an absolute tizzy.

First, the good news.

We're probably moving to California in six weeks. Away from here. Away from everything that's ever been here. Away from my fucking life. Really, the problems I list on this blog are only about half of my real problems. I'm not entirely an emotionally stable guy, and I at least had the investigations to keep me stable, but...

God, I miss Nathan, I seriously do, I have no one anymore. Nathan was someone I could hang out with, someone I could talk to, and he's gone, and I killed him, I got him killed, this never would have happened if it wasn't for my obsessive.. god.eee

I'm so sorry, Nathan. I am so sorry, I honestly can't fucking begin to tell you how sorry I am. I feel horrible about what I put you through, but I didn't mean to, I didn't want you to go, I..... bah.

I'm so alone and it's all my fucking fault.

That's why I've been feeling horrible. It's out. It's fucking out.

I want to get the hell away from this place, from this crazy country, from this crazy family, from this crazy investigation, from EVERYTHING. I want peace of mind.

But I'll never get peace of mind.

I wish I was dead.

I need more prog.

In happier news,

Jordan Rudess (the current keyboardist for Dream Theater) got an epic supergroup together and recorded a cover version of Emerson, Lake & Palmer's epic "Tarkus."

I'm listening to it, and this is one of the most powerful covers I've ever heard of anything ever. Rudess' style is usually much too fast for covers, but it's just fast enough for ELP. His insane "wankery" works with the epic, turning a usually quiet and aged masterpiece into an energetic and flowing tribute to a highly underrated band.

Jordan Rudess, you da man. I think you have more potential than even Tony Banks. Good luck in the future, and I am so an undying fan.. and.. bah, not like you'd ever read this humble blog.

The emotions pour out onto the page.

I cried twice today.

I didn't feel anything whilst crying. Instead, I felt hints of sadness. I wanted to take this sadness and force it out. I wanted to force emotions. But the sadness just appeared for a split-second, and then it disappeared. It got bottled up. I recognized it as sadness so I could put on the front of "sad" for people, at least so I wouldn't walk right into more bottling-up of emotions.

But even though I can't feel anything doesn't mean I don't have feelings. They're just numbed to the point of invisibility. The emotions I do feel, I don't share. Because sharing my feelings only annoys people, which causes me to feel hints of further sadness.

I think, at this rate, if I were to actually feel every emotion every time instead of bottling them up and numbing them the way I do, I'd kill myself.

But in numbing them, I can let the emotions out progressively. In writing.

And listening to prog helps.

I don't care what anyone says; I like prog. I love prog. No other genre makes me feel so alive. No other genre makes me sweat just by listening to it. Not dancing, not headbanging. Just sitting on my bed, listening to it. The changes, the power in the technicality, the sheer complexity of it all, the fictional emotions the stories can convey.. I find it all so much more real than actual emotions, than real life.

I'm the kind of person who empathizes more with fictional characters than with real life. Real life just doesn't connect with me.

..wow, I feel better.

Hurt.

Everything's fake.

My parents are fake.

Life is fake. I don't want to go through it much longer. Life is fake.

The Camper is fake. It's just a fucking prank or some promotional game or some stupid.. stupid.. no, I mean or it just fucking doesn't exist at all.

The police never got back to me about looking at the house. No doubt because I probably didn't actually call them; it was probably all in my head.


There's no real point, is there? To living. To blogging. So I don't blog much anymore. But who cares, anyway? I don't. I honestly don't. I blog out of a compulsion, feeling I need to post something. I don't care about the investigation, I don't care about my parents and what the fuck has happened. I don't give a damn about myself, either. I don't care. I say I care about everything, I say I can't not care, but that's a fucking lie. I can't care. I can't. I can obsess over things like prog, like female supremacy, like this investigation, but in the end, I don't really care about them. I just obsess over them, and I know I'll find different obsessions if they went away. It's how I work.

Duke Nukem Forever is one of the closest things to "fun" I've had in a very long time. Then I go online and I see that I seem to be alone in liking the finished product. Of course. People are such cynics. I hate cynicism. You want fucking cynicism, assholes? Do you want fucking cynicism?


There is a God, but he exists only to make our lives miserable. So when we die, we're not going to Hell. We're just rotting in the ground. We're sinking into fucking nothingness. But the truth is, I'd rather have nothingness than endure another day of this hell. But I'll stick around, just because I'm too much of a pussy to kill myself. I'll suffer in silence because I can't get any louder. Because I don't care.

I put on the front of "caring" to please people. I put it on while hoping it'll inspire people to care about me. Maybe someone can spark emotions in me. But no, so far, no one has. People have gotten close. I've lied about many things over the years, but "I'm happy" is the most frequent one I tell. I'm not happy. I'm never happy. If I say I'm happy, I'm just distracted. If I'm not distracted, I'm left with my thoughts. My daylight nightmares. Then I get "sad." If I say I'm sad, I.. well, I am a little. But I've learned to detach myself from my emotions. So I just feel empty.

Empty is all I know how to feel, at least consciously. The only way I can feel anything positive is to simply distract myself, to subconsciously detach myself from my emotions.

I don't love. I fear. If someone is close enough to me (figuratively), I fear the day that they begin to hate me. It always happens. It always does. I fear the stone-cold silence to come, the days when all possible love that used to be there is nothing but a fading memory in my mind. Those days, I desperately try to please them; I want to cling to the days when I feared the future instead of the present.

I'm hungry. I haven't eaten anything but a Pot Noodle today. It's almost 10 PM. Yesterday I did the same, just a Pot Noodle. I hear Pot Noodles aren't very nutritious. Well, they used to make me feel full. They've stopped.

..I fear the day this investigation becomes active again. I fear the possibility that that EAT thing is real. A real Eldritch Abomination, and it knows my name. That'd just be a perfect end to my life. Because my life hasn't had enough hopeless desperation already. I fear the day I have to tell my parents what really happened to Nathan.

I fear the day I drown in progressive rock.

I feel something in my throat. It's tears; I recognize that. I want to cry, but I don't feel sad at all.

I just don't.

And in the end, we lie awake, and we dream of making our escape.

I don't want to talk about it.

I'm just going to play Duke Nukem Forever. And I'm going to escape from it all.

everyones hurting me nowhere is safe i want to get out let me out please let me out

Please.

don't hurt me

Camped Out

Rubber Goose-- the blog! has been removed.

Blogger isn't letting me revive it.

That countdown from earlier was counting down to this? What? And the.. wait, it mentioned.. fucking..

The Camper did this. But Sam was the Camper, and Sam was.. but.. motherfucker.

I mean, Rubber Goose was my blog.. why didn't they try to shut this blog down? Why Rubber Goose? What the fuck is going on?