Sand. Sex. The summer geography project I haven’t got round to doing.

These se were the main things on my mind laying on a Spanish beach today just outside of Marbella. 

Sand is a dick. It gets everywhere you don’t want it to.

EVERYWHERE.

Like I don’t even like sand, why can’t I just come out of yeh sea and not get all fucking sandy is that seriously too much to ask for? 

Sex. What teenage kid doesn’t think about this? God, I need to admit to myself what I need and I need to satisfy these needs now. Things are gonna change this year, I can’t hope  to figure shit out by not participating, I need stuff…thaaaaangs.

Geography summer project…

Fuck.

Yes, I’ve been drinking, Cormac, and it’s half fucking one. So please, shut the fuck up on Skype.

So, after that lovely story I put out, I just want to say.

I will not write a story in the apocalypse, Sly.

I’ve been working on some stories for fun because if you can’t say it then write, this is the first part of the story.

There she stands; immortalised. At the centre of our impossible universe, stands such beauty and prose. One with form beyond comprehension and spiritual belief, many would say she was, in turn, an entity above. God on Earth. And there was I, swallowed by the pumped leather chair and clamped by the effects of untainted alcohol and bad decisions.

The star in the sky sunk into the cold ground as the informal gathering proceeded into the night. The terraced house that belonged to owner A was transformed into a forum, a nightclub and a church – all working together to satisfy all. Many guests, like me, have stumbled into this place by the electro-wildfire that is more popularly recognised as the Internet. And thank above for this night, for my mind turns, tumbles into disparity, into death, one second, counting down, till the clock hits zero and all will be done – I will be the food for my children. Yet the night persists and I have a bottle of ‘enter-here’ chilled beer. I need to move and find other focus.

For the many months before, I have expectantly created new thoughts – ones my young mind should never think, for they make me wonder beyond comprehension, into eternal nothingness as I depart this world and fertilize this earth as a ‘thank you’ card for the existing part of life. Before, I was a merry fellow with hope and aspirations to capture this life in a single frame; art. Art is a conversation from one person to another yet every time it’s different for everyone. This entices me.

I’m in the house, in the garden, in the leather chair that is bolted to the oak flooring of this ‘den’.  And she walked in…

Note: I’m trying to find a style that I like, so that’s why the pacing is weird. I’m looking at James Joyce, Chuck Palahniuk and Samuel Beckett with some Bronte in there.

Parties are almost always lose-lose situations. They suck.

This isn’t a general statement that applies everywhere and all the time, but it our current situation, it really fucking makes sense.

Somebody always has to clean up your fucking mess because you’re too much of a cunt to do it yourself, things get broken, relationships get broken because of stupid little quarrels over the opposite sex, so pointless because you probably won’t see said person again. Meanwhile i’ll be witnessing all these shitty little arguments thinking ‘what the fuck are you doing’, i’ll take a side when it’s needed, nobody has the right to be an absolute asshole to anyone, if you think you can then you’re broken somewhere up there.

Don’t all sit on the swinging ben- too late. That’s broken.

Do you remember that rule, bring your own drink? good luck kid, you’re not 18 yet. Enjoy your night sober, sit there and watch everyone else buzzing around the speaker dancing to house music while all you can think about is sleeping somewhere quieter. 4AM is round the corner and so are you as you push the bed away enough to make just enough space to curl up in to the shape of a Tetris block and drown yourself in small pillows.

Yes, I went to a shit party. Some of the people who were nicest to me last night were people I wouldn’t consider my ‘close friends’ and my real close friends didn’t seem so near last night. It’s not their fault and it’s not mine, it’s just not nice.

Hopefully the next one’ll be a good one. Until then, i’m going to attend a family Barbecue where my friend will be with my cousin, because y’know, somehow they’re dating…

Ew.

Never a truer statement.

Well the first part, anyway.

So this summer has half been about experiencing shit, catching up with new and old friends alike and trying to find myself.

“That is about the gayest thing I’ve ever heard.” Yep, Nathan Young, you’re right.

Trying to find ‘who you are’ is one of the most stupid things I ever thought of attempting. Why should I, or we find ourselves? It isn’t our purpose, not our objective, or vocation.

Instead of bending the knee(s) *hue* to society’s expectations, why can’t I simply get on with my life without giving a fuck about who I am, who I will be, and just enjoy my seemingly ignorant-stupor, my desire to learn, and my complete confused-as-shit head and trust it to do as it will?

Something happened today which I didn’t expect to. Nobody knows what happened. What I did.

But it was incredible. Something I hadn’t experienced in nearing on a year and a half.

It’s one of those rare moments where you question yourself whether you do tell your closest friends, and realise that is surprisingly more satisfactory to remain in tranquil privacy, remaining mute. 

Finding who I am? Fuck off, I’m quite happy with myself at the moment. Experiences like today prove there is still opportunities to get, or become what I want to. There is always a chance, somewhere, no matter what anybody else says.‘

“We fucked up, bigger and better than any generation that came before us!”

Three fitting Nathan Young quotes, ffs how right can a cynical, sarcastic, quite optimistic arsehole actually be?

Always, is the answer.

Okay kids. This is how it goes down.

Username – Archie is my name. Salt is the first half of my surname. Simple right? Yes it is.

I’ll probably use this to share learned life lessons, reviews about Film, Television and Games. For example. Boyhood – haven’t seen it, want to see it. don’t spoil it please. Next up, Rick and Morty. NICE. An amazing cartoon aired on Adult Swim which is obviously based loosely off Back to the Future, but who the fuck cares when it’s hilarious, deep and original. Finally, Shovel Knight is my 8 bit bae, he cheats on Shield Knight for me because we’re madly in love and his shovel digs really deep, OOOOOOH THE MUSIC, Jake Kaufman you genius.

Listen to this, it’s good.

Life’s too short.

A strange statement that can be argued or agreed upon, yet we must consider this seriously. As I browse the vast world of the internet, listening to childhood RnB songs and eating a cheese sandwich, I have an unwelcoming revelation; I will die. Shit. 

Not that I’m going to die straightaway, I mean ‘Geez, keep the coffin in the closet’. I mean that at some point in our lives, the survival rate drops to zero (thanks, Fight Club). Which is true, but I can’t ravel my head around the concept. Others might say ‘But you got God, y’all be fine’ – however in recent times, I lost my religious touch, one day I’m off to church, the next I break all the commandments. Even if I class myself as a Catholic, it doesn’t make this situation any easier. This little moment has made me look back at what I’ve done in these couple of decades, some moments weren’t pretty and some were the greatest times.

Though, most of my achievements and enjoyment has been in the last two years, I worked hard, I actually got fit (not healthy) and I became more sociable – I’ve been so happy.

But, that stop tonight. Maybe it’s the fear of going back to college knowing it’s gonna be the hardest year of my life. It’s also gonna be the hectic year of my life. On the other hand, it’s gonna be the most life-changing experience of a year because of loads of things; prom, parties, holidays, date nights, nights out, night drives, driving lessons, school lessons, life lessons, love, hate, peace and war (not really). So, this is where I leave this post – I realize that all I needed to do was talk and the feeling is gone.

For anyone else feeling crap, look back then forward – death is only the last page, you have to write the rest of the story.

Big C, out.

I can summarize every single exchange I have with females in a single gif.

Now, as far as Spooky Scary Skeletons go I do not chance to deem myself in anyway the inferior in looks to the average Spooky Scary Skeleton yet eternally I am beset with a result so recurrent it is almost enough to bring tears to my eyes…if I had eyes ~Yo ho ho, SKULL JOKE!

But as time and experience endured, I found insecurity and paranoia to be omnipresent companions and beyond the grave, I tell ya, you do not have that many.As a result, I became quite to bitter bag of bones to the point where I refused to even consider the possibility that I might be the subject of amorous affections of any such variety. Alas, the heart I once had was destined to be a lone one until the day I died…again…
Such was this ignorance, I even wound up hurting people who I would later find out all too late from the wrong people truly did care. In retrospect, there never was a bigger numbskull, nor a greater bonehead than I once paranoia and a pitiful self esteem ruined my young skeletal self and I am thankful beyond all measure of thanks to those few friends that remained at my side.

But to the point of this post.
Change is not something that can be done on a whim or by force of will. There has to be a fundamental trigger to prompt personal change and this comes about in the form of either a point of desperation or a point of inspiration. While presumably self-explanatory, allow me to quickly elaborate.

Point of Inspiration
Life is consisted almost entirely of chances and coincidences. From the lucky pound coin you found winning you £10 in the lottery to that missed bus that sat you side by side with your future partner at a bus shelter in the rain or that one rotten plum you chanced eating. How could you have known it would have been that bad? How were you to know it would wind up killing you? How was I supposed to know that witchdoctors went around cursing random plums to feed innocent bystanders and resurrect them as some monstrous abomination of existance, eternally separated from all mankind and those I once knew and forced to scrape by a living performing like an animal. I cannot even cry for my lack of tears to shed, all I am is a shell unable to-

Moving on…

A Point of Inspiration comes when one of these chances is so benevolent as to bless the individual with an idea and that idea works its way to imagination. As my good man Blaise Pascal (better known for his triangular related shenanigans) once so neatly put it, “Imagination decides everything.” If a thought never occurs then it is impossible for action to occur as a result and that is where a Point of Inspiration comes in. Sparking off the thought and prompting imagination and leading to change.
Perhaps this is the less effective of the two methods in the sole similarity it has to a whimsical change.
It remains, most of the time, a choice over whether or not change occurs.
Man, as an animal, tends to opt for the best route for itself and itself alone with few (albeit noble and wholly congratulated) exceptions. In this, change often presents itself as the more difficult route, the route that requires the most effort and stress and effort and stress are legitimately intimidating prospects. Nobody wishes suffering upon themselves outside of kinks I have no wish to know more than necessary of and therefore instinct tells us to avoid such routes.

As you may recall, however, I spoke of another method of change. One that I feel to be infinitely more effective and the one that personally forced, not prompted, forced me to change for the infinitely better.

Point of Desperation.
As much as life is full of cute and quirky chances, it is always saturated with struggle. Life is a monster we all need to fight and it is a fight that never ceases until the day life finally gets the better of us and we are forcibly pried apart by Death playing referee in the bout. Nobody wins the fight against life, it is the equivalent of watching the first half of Rocky III on loop, up until Rocky gets his salad well and truly tossed by Mr T. There is no training montage to Survivor that lets us win. No training with Apollo Creed gives us any tricks and the death of Mickey doesn’t fire us up to victory.
It fires us up to go back and fight.

We will never win the fight against life, but by hell, human tenacity will not let us be knocked out easily. I mean, hell, look at me still kicking without muscles or brains tissue or anything to speak of aside from these rattling set of bones.

How do I even function..?

I am most alert somewhere between 10pm- 1am in an ironic kick in the shin by fate which means I think and reflect a lot when I lay back in my sarcophagus in those unholy hours of the night. Similarly, back then, I had worked into a point where I was convinced that the world hated me as much as I hated it in return. I shall not turn this into an angst blog (I’m a freaking animated skeleton/plum hybrid) but I shall say that I held a lot of violent thoughts up in my head.

I hit my rock bottom.

That is where the Point of Desperation becomes so effective. When deprived of choice, we inadvertently create a choice that is no choice at all; take the only route available or drive until the rocky road becomes a road of broken glass. The Point of Desperation flips the Point of Inspiration on its head and converts the difficult option into the comparatively simpler one. We recognize that carrying on as we are is impractical or in some cases lethal. We say to ourselves, as I am certain we all have at some point,
“I cannot live like this.”
Leading to two outcomes, one of which being the change we all want and some of us need.

So following my tangle with the despair event horizon, I forced myself to change. I forced myself to detach myself from the world and view it objectively through a third person viewpoint seeing as my own was corrupted and thoroughly twisted by paranoia to be of use.
And I will not say ‘and just like that’ but very soon I saw the world as what it was. It did not hate me, it simply did not understand me for I was refusing to allow it that luxury.
That person did not invite me that place because I had shown no signs of interest.
That person did not speak to me that time because I had been glaring so much.
That person did not show feelings for me because she was waiting for me to do it.

Or it might have been because I’m a fucking Spooky Scary Skeleton.

Originally, for my first post, I intended to give a quick summary of the TV shows, games and hobbies I’m into. Just show a little information about myself.

The Walking Dead was to be one such show I would mention. Survival. Degradation. Instinct. Aspects I have pure interests in. Survival in a post-apocalyptic wilderness requires not only courage, or intelligence, yet also the determination or will to prosper.

In today’s society, those traits are vital to succeeding and achieving. a majority of people have these traits, and some of these people attend colleges, sixth forms, universities or other forms of education in their climb. Today, Thursday 14th July, was the results day for AS and A Level students throughout the United Kingdom.

The results shocked and pleased everybody. Some even experienced both emotions. I was one of those few.

Not only have recent changes in the education system totally screwed some people over, I have luckily been spared. However, in the process of dodging this bullet, I have succumbed to another; the arrogance of a minority of examiners.

The moment you find out not only yourself, yet the entire groups around you have been screwed over by someone in control of your potential near futures is infuriating.

Now THAT, is what betrayal feels like, Tyrion Lannister.

In the end, whenever you hear an examiner, not your teacher or guider, but examiner say ‘We really do want you to achieve to the best of your ability’, just remember who they truly are.

Liars.

Liars and cheats everywhere.