Below are the 13 most recent journal entries recorded in metrogrov's LiveJournal:

Thursday, February 26th, 2004
2:54 pm	You hate diet coke. You hate the flavor, you hate the aspartame used to make it. You hate all the skin and bones model type girls who drink it. You hate the old mom type ladies who drink it. You want to sneak in to the plant, and put alcohol into the entire stock of diet coke. Youd like it a little better then. Just so you know, when you start actually planning to do this, you need to drink. Just imagine all the model type girls, unknowingly drunk on thier precious diet coke. Just imagine all the soccer moms drunk, frisky, horny. Just imagine every fat ass who orders a diet coke to make thier greasy meal healthy drunk. Just imagine the diabetics across the world drunk. Just imagine the unlucky little kid who wants a soda, and the only choice left is diet coke, just imagine him drunk. Imagine him stumble around, imagine him fall, imagine him telling little suzy, or jane how he really feels. How when he walks by them something clicks inside him. Alcohol is courage, alcohol is honest, alcohol is right. Drink one for alcohol, drink one for its honesty, for its courage, for its all around greatness. Just imagine all those bastards drunk. Just imagine how honest they would be. They wont even know they are drunk, they wont know why they are honest. They wont know why they have the courage to talk to people in an assertive way. Just imagine how many country songs would be playing at that time. Just think how many people would finally be a little closer to understanding. Drink because you have a good plan. Then drink again, because you dont know where a diet coke bottling plant is. (Comment on this)
Tuesday, February 24th, 2004
12:28 am	You are digusted. You hate yourself, not the person you show your friends on the floor you live on, not the person you show the eighth floor, not even the person you show the tenth floor. You hate who you really are. You hate the aspiring alcoholic, the secret midnight toker, the secret drug addict. You hate the person who has all the aspirations and good intentions, but doesnt want to follow through when it gets hard. You hate the fact that you know Walmart has more acreage in parking lots than the enitre state of rhode island has in entirety. You hate the fact that if you dropped out and worked at walmart in thirty years youd be making the same as what youll make when you fail out this semester. You hate the fact that you let yourself even care about things, things that didnt care about you. School fucked you, your family fucked you, your friends fucked you, God fucked you. Line up ten, then down the hatch. You cared about people, about work, about school. What did that give you, other than a shitload of things to do over break? Nothing, no response, work didnt help you get the internship they said you would. Your friends didnt talk to you unless you had something to say. Even people you know you formed true friendships with, they dont talk to you now. School is even harder. What happened? The only time you feel fine is rock climbing, the only time you feel fine is when you arent thinking. The only time you feel fine is when the only thing you can think of is the rock your holding onto, the instincs kick in, the only time you feel fine is when you know youre safe but your body doesnt. After rock climbing, your problems diminish, nothing seems as important as that rock you held onto. But sure enough the next day your body forgets how important that rock was, and remembers how fucked over you are by you so called "friends", by your classes. by your family. You arent welcome at home, you arent welcome on your floor, your real self isnt allowed on the eighth, or the tenth, you arent allowed back onto the rocks until your healed. God is fucking you hard. But really you are fucking yourself harder, you just dont know why, you dont know how. This is the ultimate fuck over, when god is screwing you on every little thing, but you, you are fucking yourself on everything. This calls for everclear. This calls for killians red. This calls for fat tire. This calls for a keg of grolsch. This calls for any of the above, but it still wont solve it. This calls for newcastle, this calls for vodka, this definitely calls for scotch. This calls for country music. This calls for something, some change, something helpful, something beneficial, something real. You must find something real, something meaningful. If only you could climb and think about this. If only you could drink and think about this. If only. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Monday, February 9th, 2004
10:11 pm	You are fed up with freedom. You are sick of rights. You have the right to remain to silent, FUCK IT. All those people who died for our freedoms, all those brave souls who gave thier lives for us, if they saw what we did with thier sacrifice, who knows what they would do. Drink 5 for them. The only right they fought for, the only thing they died for, was for you to have the right to fuck things up. You are sick of freedom. You want to go back to a dictatorship. You wanna revert to a totalitarian state. You want something where you dont have the right to fuck things up, where you cant fuck things up, because if you did you would die. All this progress, all the politics, everything has blinded you . The world thinks, no, the world ingrains in you that freedom is good. What was so wrong with the world before all these freedoms. People had a job, had a purpose. People knew what they wanted, because they had to. They wanted to farm the field, because they would die otherwise. God would have them killed. Drink. Nowadays, you do things for no apparent reason, because you haveb the freedom to do so. There is nothing you do because you want to anymore. You dont rock climb because you want to, because if you didnt you would serve no purpose and be killed. You dont drink because you want to, you dont work because you have to, you go to college because you have to. All this freedom, all these rights, all they have done is take away your purpose in life. Freedom has left you empty. You try to fill it with all these activites that little niglets in africa cant do. You try to fill it with expensive toys, and crazy nights. You try to fill it with art, paintings that mean nothing. You try to fill it with books, with food, with alcohol. You try to fill by taking exotic vacations to far away places. All you are trying to do is find a purpose. You are looking in all the wrong places though. You need to look inside, find a purpose. Fuck freedom, freedom is a distraction. Become your own totalitarian state. Only by denying freedom will your life have a purpose and take shape. Drink to celebrate a possibly bright future, drink to mourn a loss of a way of life, drink because you realize you cant change so drastically, drink because this is God fucking you as hard as he can. 31449544 left you big pussy. (Comment on this)
11:48 am	You are watching bullriding. You watch bullriding every sunday. You love watching bullriding. Something about the dirt, the danger, the falls, something reminds you about how short life is. How just eight seconds can make a difference. How sick you are of waiting for life to happen, how you try to make life happen. Bullriding reminds you that there is nothing constant, even Chris Shivers doesnt ride a bull every time. This reminds you that the sun may not come up tommarrow, God might fuck you tommarrow, but he might not, the point is there is nothing constant. Drink. And then drink again because God made you sick of drinking. God made you sick of trying to finish your 31449555 drinks. There is nothing constant, even Justin McBride doesnt ride a bull each time. You know there is nothing constant, however you are the only one. People believe certain things are constant, people believe fun, friends, love, and hate are all constant. There is not anything constant. Fun wanes, one thing you find fun one day will not be fun the next. Friends change, you change, friends leave, you leave, friends are pretend, you pretend. Love and hate are too strong of words, nothing in life is constant, and therefore you cannot use these words. Nothing in life will last to love, and nothing in life is worth hating, aside from god's mistreatment. Drink. The point is there is nothing constant. there is nothing good to wait for, there is nothing bad to hate, there is nothing constant, even Jodie Newberry doesnt ride a bull each time. (Comment on this)
Saturday, February 7th, 2004
11:48 am	You hate everyone. You listen, you learn, you care, can you believe it? But noone else does. Everyone is just waiting for thier turn to talk. Everyone cares about themselves first, then you, then you get your wants and needs touched on. God even cares about himself first. God is selffish. Everyone is selffish. You try to be unselffish, but it is useless. God fucked the world up. Guzzle down two. You are tired, you are sick, you are fed up with the charades. Drink 12. Rinse. Repeat. (Comment on this)
Thursday, February 5th, 2004
8:08 pm	You had better make a lot of drinks, cuz God was busy today. You had a best friend. You had something constant in your life, your best friend was the only thing you had that was constant in your life. Key word, had. God fucked you. Drink. You and him, you guys were friends since you were little. You used to go over to his house, 4 houses down across on the other side of the street. You used to build models together. When you finished a model, you would compare it to his, yours were always a little worse, God made your hands shake too much to get all the details perfect. Drink. You used to talk, you would talk about anything. You were so opinonated, but he made you listen to both sides of an argument. He made you see things from more than one angle. You used to swim together. You used to jump off the roof together. You used to start clubs, and not let in Jay Mitchell. The point is you used to have a best friend. Until God fucked you. Drink. God made him throw you through a bathroom door. You just stood up, in the midst of all this choas, in the middle of a shattered door, covered in splinters, crying and ran off. You never did talk, really talk, to him again. You have felt alone since then, you dont get attached to anyone. Noone, noone knows the real you. Noone talks to you the way your bestfriend did. God caused this. Drink. You are like a box, you have sides you show people, and an inside that you can open up, or leave shut. Yours is shut. Inside this box is you, the real you. But since your box is closed noone can see in there. People only get to see the face you show them. Somewhere in there, probaly very deep in there, so deep even you dont know where it is, somewhere in there is the real you. The real you, the whole you, is so deep inside this closed box, that the real you doesnt know which way is up. The real you is stuck, probaly never to be found again, all that remains is the faces of the box. You are not a whole person, you are just the sum of all the faces you want to show people. There is nothing you can do about this either, it is too late, God fucked you hard. Sip. Gulp. Chug. Finish another one. You were crying and running home. One, two, threee, four houses down and across the street. You ran inside, you slammed the door. You got yelled at for slamming the door by you oh-so-sympathetic father. Still crying, and silent, you didnt talk for the next day, you began picking splinters out of you body. Every spot you emptied a splinter from, you covered with triple antibiotic ointment. At the end of the night you had used the whole tube. Once all the splinters were out, once only the pain was left, no wood, once they were all gone you realized what happened. Your bestfriend threw you through a bathroom door. Your bestfriend, your constant, left you covered in splinters and crying. Sitting there all oily from ointment you realized your bestfriend, was now your ex-bestfriend. God really fucked you over there. Drink, You have to be drunk after that one, only 31449571 more. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
2:39 am	You bought a book today, you bought someones hard work. Someones sweat and tears, years of someones life, hours of thier thoughts, you bought part of them. For $10.95. Down the hatch. God fucked them, but you, youll still drink. When you got to the cash register, the attendant asked how you were doing. This phrase is no longer a question, as its form implies. It is now a greeting. The cashier doesnt give a flying fuck about how your doing. Fine, you say. You ask how thier day is going. Fine, they say. Here you realize the universe is out of sync. You said your day was going fine, you lied. You forgot to buy an eraser, and made a mess of your homework. The store was out of the clipable pockets to wear with your favorite shorts. Which God made pocketless. Shot time. You start to think if you lied, what could be going wrong with him. What did he forget, What did god fuck him out of. Youd offer him a beer, but your not even old enough. Fill the cup, and down it. You hate your job, cooking other peoples food. Fetticini this, alfredo that, creamy tomato basil with penet pasta. Not even a god dam please. How are you doing welcome to pandini's you say. They dont answer, not like you want them to but at least lie. Always lie, at least. Ill have the spaghetti and meatballs they say, im sorry but we are out of meatballs you say. Looks like God just fucked them. Wine sounds good. Your job is repetitive, flip the pasta until sauce is evenly distributed. Then flip when you see bubbles in the sauce. You look in the pan and see noodles in disorder. You flip the pan, increasing the entropy, and see more disorder. Three more times and youll have your life, or pasta as the case may be. Nightcap anyone. I have to finish 31449579 drinks tommarrow. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Tuesday, February 3rd, 2004
9:55 pm	Close your eyes and stand in front of a mirror, imagine yourself the way you want to be. Looking the way you want to look, feeling the way you want to feel, being who you want to be. Now open them. Drink. Close your eyes and stand in the middle of the room. Think of where you want to be, where in your life you want to be, where geographically you want to be. Now open them. Drink. Close your eyes and let your friends keep talking around you. Tune them out and think who you want to be around, think who you dont want to be around, think who they want to be around, and who they dont. Now open them. Drink. Close your eyes and kneel in prayer. Think of everything you could ever want, think of everything you could change, think of asking god to help you. Now open them. Has anything changed since the last time you opened your eyes? Of course not. What you should of done was take another drink, rather than hope something would be different this time. You still have 31449585 left to go, just to break even. God listens to your prayers just to fuck you. He hears the one thing you want, and, just to fuck with you, you will never get it. To truly get what you want, you have to not want it. To truly get what you want, you have to not want anything. You have to be content with nothing. Drink. Or, or you have to drink 31449584 more times. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
2:21 am	You live with pain everyday. As a matter of fact, the last time you didnt feel pain was three weeks before you left for college. You know the time when you didnt play sports, all you did was sit around the house and drink. The time when you didnt have broken toes from rock climbing, sore muscles from working out, hurt knees from running, random cuts and bruises from any number of things, and hardwood floor burns from raquetball. The last time you didnt feel pain, you were in the shower. You realized all of a sudden, that there was nothing wrong. You realized that every inch of your body felt fine, you realized that your dad hadnt talked to you in three days, and you knew you were loved by someone. But guess what god did at that exact moment. You remember, he caused you to drop the soap on your toe, and feel pain again, feel normal again. Take a drink. 31449593 more left before you can live free. Pain is an everyday occurence for you, you have gone very few days without pain. Your pain tolerance is higher than you alcohol tolerance. You are used to feeling physical pain, you only complain to act regular. You feel more pain than you ever care to mention. You are used to feeling emotional pain, you have always felt more emotional pain than need be, yet you never complain about this. To compensate for never complaining about emotional pain you complain more about little physical pains. For you, life has always been a pain, there has been no change. God has made your life, and he made yours painful. Understand that and then take 5 drinks, because your a little bit closer to finishing, to not feeling pain, ONCE again. (Comment on this)
Sunday, February 1st, 2004
12:11 pm	Your vision is blurry, hell, your entire dam life is blurry. You dont know where to begin, where to end, or even where to look. Your life just happens and you let it, you just stumble along blurry-eyed and think you are living. You are NOT living, you are an empty shell. You have a body, you have a face, you have every muscle but you lack one thing, purpose. You are just part of the world, an empty shell, like the millions of empty shells on baseball stadium floors across the nation. The sad thing is as an empty shell, you get stepped on over and over again. There is nothing you can do to find your purpose either, this is god fucking you, this is his thesis statement. You can just survive, stumbling around in blurry haze. There is nothing you can do, God is just fucking you. What can you do, your not even old enough to buy beer for god sakes. Take a fucking drink already, you need to finish your 31449594 remaining drinks. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Saturday, January 31st, 2004
4:32 pm	You don't know what you want. You dont even have a clue. For god sakes youre not even old enough to buy beer and here you are making important decisions, lifelong decisions. You havent even begun to live yet, your only eighteen years old, how do you know what you really want. The fact is you dont. All you know, all you can ever know is what you dont want. The problem is once you know what you dont want, God is there to give it to you. You dont want to be lonely, well "FUCK YOU" he says and then causes you to feel alone, seperated. You dont want to be a failure, well he quickly flips you off and then makes your GPA .11 lower than it needs to be. All you do is stand there wondering, why you, why you. Cheers, and put 31449596 more on my tab. What you dont want is always available, simply because it is defined. You dont want to be a dick to your friends, "well to hell with that," god says and opens up a great time somewhere else. When you look in the mirror, the reflection you see, is not what you want to see. Its what you dont want to see, it is who you dont want to be. You look in the mirror and see things you need to change. Your nose is too big, your teeth are too yellow, you nipples are too big, your boobs sag. You look in the mirror and see a person you dont want to be. This is the way people live, by looking at themselves, being disgusted and then changing to something they think they want. This is the one thing you know, and this is your advantage. You know that you cant live like these people, you dont want to. And because you dont want to, you also know god will fuck you over. Bottoms up. You need to hurry, you have 86,395 more drinks to finish just today. (Comment on this)
Friday, January 30th, 2004
11:45 am	You look down. Before you is thirty feet of jagged rock and then, suddenly, the ground appears. You are rock climbing, going sport on a 5.10b, and there is nothing you'd rather be doing. For some reason being this close to death makes you happy. Take a drink. You start thinking about how the harness you bought is tested to hold a ton in a fall of factor one on a dynamic rope. You start to think all an engineer had to do was come in hungover or strung out one day and forget one dx, mess up one antiderivitive, or forget to differentiate one thing and you go splat. You start to think that the double figure eight knot holding you up gets tighter when weight is put on it, put if you dont have a long enough tail on it, the tail will slip through, and you go splat. You have already thought about the hooks you are clipping into as you lead this 5.10b, they are tested to hold 2 tons. But you know that just one fall can cause internal damage to the hooks, leaving the possibility for you to go splat, if you fall. The best thing you can hope for is to get tangled in the rope and choke to death. But God won't let that happen, instead he embarasses you because he doesnt let you finish the route. He forces you to rapelle down in shame, as your climbing partners yell "What the Fuck, you had it." God fucks you again. Sipping time. Hell you only have 31449597 left to go this year. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Wednesday, January 28th, 2004
11:09 am	God fucks you over every second of everyday. God fucks you over 3600 times an hour, 86400 times a day, 604800 times a week, and 31449600 times a year. Everytime god fucks you, you need to drink. This is life's little drinking game, so drink up. The best you can hope for is to die in your sleep. Waking up, the first thing you do is look at the clock. You then reason if you can spend more time idle in bed, or if the day must begin. God fucks you here, he always begins the day. Why can't you choose just to stay in bed, die in bed. Drink up. (1 Comment |Comment on this)